


One day we'll meet trouble halfway

by rydia



Series: The upswing [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bath Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Grief, Mild Angst, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), extremely background Claudevain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: "I still don’t know why I joined your stupid house.”“Sure you do.” Claude smirks. “Because of Teach.”Or: on their return to Garreg Mach they find out that Byleth is still alive, leaving Felix with some complicated feelings. Unfortunately for him, both Sylvain and Claude are very aware of this. Doubly unfortunate for him, Byleth is very much unaware, mostly because Felix is incapable of speaking to her like a normal person.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The upswing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922080
Comments: 120
Kudos: 701





	1. Chapter 1

Felix doesn’t know why he’s going back to Garreg Mach.

Maybe it’s because Sylvain is going – because _of course_ Sylvain is going. He’d been better about keeping in touch with Claude than Felix had been, but that hadn’t mattered, because Sylvain had always told Felix everything in Claude's letters anyway.

Despite the five years of fighting, things are relatively calm in Gautier and Fraldarius territories at the moment, although they both know that won't last. Felix still isn’t sure at the wisdom of leaving but, well… he’s also sick of being around his father. His father who remains more concerned about a dead prince than about his own son.

So maybe that’s why he goes back to Garreg Mach with minimal complaining.

He isn’t expecting to find anything there except for a Claude who’ll have to face a harsh reality. Claude's belief that the Professor is still alive and would return to them is pathetic, as is his insistence of keeping to a juvenile promise they’d made five years ago to meet up on this date. Sentimental and foolish. They’ve left behind their schooldays and now there is only death and war. This is an unnecessary distraction – and Claude, as the leader of the Alliance, should know better.

Felix had looked for Dimitri, and the Professor. Eventually he knew he was just searching for their bodies.

And yet despite it all, here is is, riding alongside Sylvain as they make good time on the road to Garreg Mach.

Once there, Felix expects to find only a disappointed Claude and a run down monastery.

Only one of those predictions turns out to be true.

.

She is alive.

Byleth is alive and standing in front of him with her eyes tracing his face like she’s noting everything that’s changed in him in the last five years. And yet she herself looks untouched by time. Looking at her, it's easy to think that it might only have been yesterday she had been teaching them tactics in the classroom.

When she says his name, Felix turns away.

It’s not that he isn’t relieved that she’s alive. He is – he’s very genuinely happy she’s here. But it’s tinged with something else, something far more selfish, because she’s been gone for _five years_ and everyone is smiling and hugging her like they haven’t all been through hell since she’d disappeared. She’d left them.

And he’s angry. Relieved that she’s here to be angry with, but still. Angry.

And Felix has forgotten just how exuberant the Golden Deer can be. It seems not even war can change that. He watches them embrace their former professor, loudly chattering, smiles across every face as Byleth hugs each of them in turn. Something coils in his stomach.

Claude is beaming from his position beside the Professor, and Felix realises with a jolt that Claude's faith had been well placed. He had always said Byleth would return to them – not once had he wavered on that – and he’d been right.

Felix can't help but feel guilty that he didn’t have such faith in her himself.

He meets Byleth’s eyes again, and she gives him that little smile that he was always so pleased to earn back when he’d been a student. Between that and the presence of his former classmates, it’s easy to think they’ve gone back in time. She's even still wearing the same damn armour. Perhaps that’s why his heart still beats so quickly at the sight of her, and he curses himself for not being over a schoolboy fancy from long ago.

.

Being back in his old room is strange. It’s eerie, really, knowing exactly which rooms are occupied and which aren’t and why that is.

Rolling onto his back, Felix stares up at the rafters in the dark. He can’t sleep. Being back here is dredging up too many memories. Too many _feelings_, both good and bad.

And it’s more difficult than he expects, to be here without Ingrid and the boar. He keeps turning a corner, expecting to meet Dimitri’s bright blue eyes, or to go into the dining hall and see Ingrid enjoying her food.

He shifts onto his side again, facing the wall and sighing.

At least Ingrid is still alive. Whatever ghosts may haunt this monastery, she isn’t one of them. And Sylvain is here. Felix won't ever say it out loud, but he's glad for that.

His thoughts drift back to the Professor, as they so often embarrassingly do.

_I was sleeping_, she’d said, so deadpan that if it had been anyone else, everyone would have taken it as a joke. An absolutely ridiculous excuse for disappearing for five years and yet also so very typically _Byleth_. Felix had been there when she’d cut through the sky with the Sword of the Creator and returned to them, changed. He can think her answer absurd even if he believes it.

His anger still lingers, joining the litany of grievances that are always bubbling just under his skin.

But he’s glad she’s here. More glad than he really wants to admit to himself, because that would mean acknowledging something he’d rather avoid at the moment.

Kicking his blanket off him, suddenly feeling too warm, Felix feels even more restless when he thinks about the Professor and his days at the Academy.

He had transferred to the Golden Deer once he’d realised how powerful Byleth was. He could learn so much more from her than he could from Professor Hanneman.

Sylvain had already transferred by then, of course. Felix had seen him trying to charm Professor Byleth in her second week of teaching. He’d sidled up to her with that ingratiating fake smile plastered across his face, shirt unbuttoned almost to his damn navel with his hair artfully tossed. Then he’d called Byleth beautiful and asked to transfer into her class.

Felix had almost laughed out loud at the look Byleth had given Sylvain. She wasn’t very expressive back then, but she had a mean stink eye. Her tone was impeccably cool as she told Sylvain to speak to Professor Hanneman first and to set up a meeting for the three of them, and then her voice had hardened when she told him that if he transferred, he’d better be prepared to work hard.

In truth, Felix thought Sylvain _might_ have regretted his decision to transfer at first. No matter how pretty she was, Professor Byleth was far tougher than Hanneman, stricter with their training, and impossible to sweet talk.

But that – and because someone had to keep Sylvain out of trouble – was exactly why Felix transferred, and he’d never once regretted it, not even when Ingrid’s face fell when he told her he was moving to the Golden Deer. He still saw her all the time, and it was only for a year. They’d both be returning to Faerghus afterwards.

Felix had never bothered to tell the boar. He assumed Sylvain or Ingrid informed him.

His decision to transfer had quickly borne fruit. Byleth always made time to spar with him, and then they’d quickly fallen into a good partnership on the battlefield.

And _then_ she’d somehow convinced him to enter the White Heron Cup.

_It will help your footwork and dexterity,_ she’d said.

Felix had hated every second of that dancing nonsense, even if he could quickly see that Byleth was right about it helping him. But then she’d touch him, lifting his arm just _so_, nudging his feet slightly wider, and his stomach would clench with nerves and anticipation.

Alright so maybe he didn't hate _every_ second.

“Where did a mercenary even learn to do this?” He’d groused after one long practice session, in which she seemed to touch him constantly.

Byleth had only given him an enigmatic smile in response.

Felix had won the dancing competition, of course. He'd even worn the damn costume.

And Byleth had been right. Five years later and he still used some of the techniques he’d learned by dancing on the battlefield. He could see how it made it movements quicker; more fluid. Possibly kept him alive.

.

He continues to toss and turn for a while, fruitlessly seeking rest. There are no curtains on the window anymore, either stolen or lost to ruin in the last few years. It’s a clear night, and the moon is shining, bright and almost full.

It reminds him a little too much of another clear, cold night with a full moon.

And a cold wave washes over Felix as he remembers a conversation he’d had with Byleth on the night of the ball, not long after the White Heron Cup.

That particular conversation is not something he’s thought about in some time. Occasionally the memory would rear up like an old adversary, ready to attack and force him to remember what an idiot he’d acted like. It was painful to recall – at first because he’d made a fool out of himself in front of her, and then later because she was gone and all memories with her were painful, too edged with grief and a sickening longing he couldn’t understand.

But now, that conversation is forefront in his mind, and that old adversary is back and making him recall it all in excruciating detail.

.

The ball had been stuffy and hot. He had danced with Ingrid, and while it hadn’t been completely terrible, he’d decided one dance would be enough. Felix could see other people eyeing him, and he didn’t want to give any of them a chance to try and ask him for a dance.

He hadn’t quite succeeded; really, he should have known Sylvain would bodily drag him onto the dance floor and spin him around.

“Why did you enter a dancing competition if you don’t want to dance?”

Felix had hissed at him like an angry cat, face flushed from the heat of the ballroom and the indignity of Sylvain manhandling him. “It was a form of _training_.”

Sylvain had laughed, and the only reason Felix hadn’t punched him was because it had been his real laugh – the laugh of his _friend_ – and not that infuriating false one. “If you say so.” A pause as they had another grapple over who should be leading – that Felix won. And then Sylvain had waggled his eyebrows and said coyly, “Did you enjoy all that alone time with the lovely Professor?”

Felix hadn’t punched Sylvain, but he had shoved him away. Unfortunately he managed to shove him straight into Claude, who took it in good stride and caught him, making it almost look like a dance move, instead of just letting that idiot fall on his ass to the floor.

And then Felix had made his escape from the ballroom.

He wasn’t even sure what had brought him to the Goddess Tower. He’d just wanted some fresh air and some quiet, and he could have gotten that anywhere outside. But for some reason, he’d gone to that Tower and climbed the steps to reach the top of it.

And then the Professor had turned up, apparently having a similar need for air and quiet like Felix, and he’d remembered what Sylvain had said and gotten annoyed all over again, because Sylvain had been right. Felix had enjoyed being alone with the Professor, getting special lessons and her undivided attention.

And now she was here and he was here, and there was that that stupid legend about a man and woman meeting at the Goddess Tower and Felix had… gotten flustered and gone on a rant about wanting to surpass her.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d expressed such a sentiment, and Byleth had never minded. She'd encouraged it, really. But this time he’d gone a little overboard.

“I’ll surpass your technique, your skill with a sword, and your cunning as a warrior. Then I will make you taste defeat!”

He remembers her reaction, small as it had been, very well. Byleth’s mouth had downturned a fraction and her eyebrows had furrowed. When she spoke, it was rather mildly and with no inflection – he had no idea what she’d really been thinking. “That seems extreme.”

.

In his old academy room, five years after this conversation, Felix turns his head into his pillow, cringing at the memory. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to surpass her – he still does – but it had been a bit much, even for him. They’d spent enough time together sparring or practising his dancing; she must have wondered at the sudden over-zealousness he’d displayed.

But she’d looked so very pretty under the moonlight, and it had been strange to be alone with her in such a setting.

And apparently that was all it took for him to make a fool out of himself.

He groans as he remembers what he’d said next.

.

“What a disappointment. If you’re looking for a passionate affair, you’ve got the wrong man. Go find someone else.”

He’d been arrogant and haughty, and out of the corner of his eye, Felix could see her looking at him in increasing bewilderment. When she’d opened her mouth to say something, Felix had just kept on talking.

_Like an idiot._

“I’ve spent my life avoiding love and romance. They’re distractions.”

“O-kay?”

“Blades, blood, and battle. That’s what I’m made of and nothing else.”

He remembers how he’d folded his arms and regarded her as she’d peered back at him, baffled. He’d stuck his nose in the air and said, “If someone saw us, however, this may look like an amorous meeting.”

Byleth had frowned at that, glancing around like she was expecting someone to leap out of the shadows.

“You’ll have to settle for being mistaken as my lover.”

.

_Why_ had he said that? What had possessed him to vomit all those stupid words like he was… like he was some kind of anti-Sylvain, determined to make women run away inside of closer?

Felix rolls onto his front, curls his knees under him, and presses the heels of his hands into his forehead, wanting to bang his head against the pillow.

.

She’d looked at him then, with a confused expression that was, admittedly, rather cute. “But that’s nonsense.”

Felix had shrugged, turning his gaze away, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart and a flicker of hurt at her dismissing it so easily. With effort, he’d kept his tone casual. “It’s time I went back to training. I’ll always be more comfortable holding a sword than a woman’s hand.”

.

Thinking back on it now, Felix realises that he’d never seen Byleth more expressive than he had during that one sided conversation.

When he’d said that, her lips had pursed and now he thinks that she’d been trying not to laugh.

He groans into his pillow again.

Of _course_ she’d been trying not to laugh. The Professor was and is a nice person and wouldn’t want to make him feel bad, even if he was making an absolute _moron_ of himself in front of her. And at least she’d never told anyone.

_If Sylvain knew…_

_._

And then Felix had finished the conversation in as spectacular a fashion as he’d started it. Turning his body away from her, he’d placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to leave. “Try not to catch a cold up here. I’d hate for such a good sparring partner to be out of commission. Goodbye.”

And then he’d walked away, and behind him he’d heard the Professor say in a wavering voice, “Goodnight, Felix,” and now, five years later he knows that she had definitely been laughing at him.

.

He curls into a ball on his bed, still pressing his hands to his head. She must think him an idiot.

He _is_ an idiot.

.

It takes him forever to finally fall asleep.

.

Sylvain looks at him slyly the next morning, stepping out into the hall as soon as Felix leaves his room. Felix thinks he must have been waiting for him, and then wonders at just what Sylvain is doing in the room next to him. That’s _Dimitri’s_ room. “Sleep well?” Sylvain asks.

Too tired to bother to verbally respond, Felix simply glares at Sylvain before taking off down the hallway towards the stairs. Sylvain keeps his pace easily. “It’s just that you sounded a little… frustrated.”

Felix spins around, turning the intensity of his glare up. “Why are you in the boar’s old room?”

“Maybe I just wanted to be closer to you.” Sylvain has that stupid, insincere smile on his face, the one that Felix can’t stand.

“Ugh.” He turns away again.

“I’m joking, Felix.” Sylvain’s voice becomes more sombre, and more genuine. “Part of the roof is damaged in my old room, it’s pretty damp in there.” A shadow crosses his face. “I didn’t really feel right about it but Leonie had fixed it up. I don’t think she knew it was Dimitri’s room. And I didn’t want to sleep in the stables.”

“Mm.” Felix keeps walking. It doesn’t matter that Sylvain slept in Dimitri’s room. Dimitri is dead.

It _shouldn’t_ matter.

So instead he tries to push the matter aside, intent on finding some breakfast. They make their way down the stairs, and Sylvain brightens up, obviously not wanting to talk about Dimitri either.

“So I heard your little moans and groans last night. I thought at first you weren’t alone, that maybe you’d finally told the Prof– Professor!”

Like Sylvain’s words have summoned her, Byleth appears in front of them at the foot of the steps. She gives them a small smile, eyes darting curiously from Felix to Sylvain and back again.

Felix is just glad Sylvain has shut up because otherwise he would have _maimed_ him. As it is Sylvain lets out a nervous laugh, obviously wondering if Byleth had heard anything he’s said. He _should_ be nervous, Felix thinks… And now the Professor is here, still looking a bit sleepy and pretty and _ugh_, he wonders if he should tell her that he missed her, because he has. And he hasn’t really spoken to her at all since she’s been back, but–

She speaks. “I’m heading to the dining hall – Hilda assures me there’s some breakfast to be found. Would you both like to join me?” Byleth tilts her head to the side as she talks and it’s so annoyingly cute that Felix grunts.

“I have to train,” he says snappishly, but his stomach decides at that moment to rebel at that idea, rumbling loudly.

Byleth has the decency to not mention it, and her face remains smooth, but Sylvain, of _course_ Sylvain can’t ignore it. He laughs, obnoxiously, and another voice rings out behind them and Felix wonders, not for the first time, why on _Fódlan_ he’d ever transferred to the Golden Deer House.

“Morning all,” Claude cheerily says as he descends the stairs. “Felix, I’m pretty sure they heard that in Almyra.”

Felix can feel himself going red. “I’ll train before I eat,” he mutters, making his way down the last few flights of steps, very aware of everyone's eyes on him.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Felix,” Byleth says gently. “Have some breakfast before training.”

He pauses but doesn’t look at her, conflicting emotions warring inside him. Instead he says, bitingly, “I know you’ve been gone a long time Professor, so you may not realise this. But we’re at war.”

“I’m aware,” she replies quietly before there’s a swish of fabric and from the corner of his eye, Felix sees her turn away. She gives Claude and Sylvain a small wave. “Perhaps I’ll see you two at breakfast.”

“Later, Teach,” Claude says with an easy smile that drops as soon as Byleth is gone. Then he turns a cool look on Felix who, despite himself, is still standing there watching Byleth stride off into the distance. He’s already mentally kicking himself for the way he’d spoken to her.

Sylvain sighs. “You’re too old to still be acting mean towards girls you like, Felix.”

Felix colours. “I’m not–“

“Wow, look at that blush.” Claude leans forward like he’s trying to see it better, and Felix turns his head away. “Right up to his ears.”

Sylvain leans lazily against the wall like he’s posing for a painting, artfully dishevelled. “If you want tips–“

“You’re the last person I’d go to for advice about this,” Felix snarls.

“Oh?” says Claude with a calculating look and a sharpness to his voice. “So there is a _this_?”

“Ugh, both of you are annoying. I still don’t know why I joined your stupid house.”

“Sure you do.” Claude smirks. “Because of Teach.”

Sylvain laughs.

Felix narrows his eyes. Enough of this. “I’m leaving.” He makes himself walk away, head held high. But he’s still very aware of his flushed face and ears. At least soon he’ll have the excuse of exercise to explain it away.

.

It’s early enough that the training grounds are empty. Felix storms through the doors, making a beeline for the training swords, stacked neatly in a rack in the corner. It’s only when he picks one up does he pause, the last few minutes catching up with him.

He leans forward and rests his head against the rough stone wall of the training grounds. And groans.

_Why_ did he talk to the Professor like that? All she’d done was ask them to breakfast.

Now all he could hope was that Claude and Sylvain wouldn’t keep going on about it.

.

Claude and Sylvain keep going on about it.

In different ways, of course. Sylvain is upfront about it, with his teasing and stupid comments and awful advice. He at least only does it when they’re alone, probably knowing Felix wouldn’t forgive him if he brought up his crush on the Professor in front of everyone else.

Because that’s what it is, of course, a stupid, inconvenient crush that will go away if he stabs something enough.

Claude’s more subtle about it, but probably not as subtle as he thinks. He makes offhand remarks to Felix in the Professor’s presence.

“Felix, isn’t Teach looking especially radiant today?” And then he smiles beatifically, like he’s a saint bestowing gifts and not a scheming troublemaker. Sometimes Felix has to remind himself that _this_ is the leader of the Alliance and their hope, along with Byleth, to win this war.

Except Claude quickly stops that tactic, because the Professor just gives him her stink eye and tells Felix to ignore him and goes back to checking a list of requisitions. Claude’s left pouting a little at her non-response, before turning a sly look on Felix and dropping an arm casually over Byleth’s shoulders, leaning in as if he’s reading the list alongside her.

Felix’s hands form into fists. Not because of Claude’s touch, necessarily. Maybe a little. But mostly because the Professor seems so comfortable with it. It’s not the first time Claude has casually touched her and been so close to her.

And stupidly, it bothers Felix. It shouldn’t, he knows. He has no claim on Byleth – he hardly even speaks to her because every time he does he says something so damn idiotic he wants to die.

But it does bother him. She smiles at Claude and they lean their heads together to work, looking so cosy and comfortable together as they make their plans and tactics to win this war.

So Felix stalks away, finding Raphael and convincing him to to train. He spends the afternoon brawling with Raphael until it feels like he's just one giant bruise. It’s Raphael who forces him to stop, partially because he wants to go and get dinner, but also because he’s concerned.

“You really do push yourself too hard,” he says in that annoying jovial tone of voice as he stretches out some of those ridiculous muscles.

Felix winces as he stretches too, brooding over his losses. Brawling isn’t his specialty, and Raphael is much larger than him, but still. He needs to get _stronger_. Losing stings.

“Hey.” A concerned look crosses Raphael’s face. “Are you hurt? I’m real sorry. Let’s go get Marianne, she’ll be able to fix you right up.”

“I’m fine,” Felix snaps, rolling his shoulders. “If you’re done, just leave.”

“You should take a break, too, Felix.” Raphael still has that concerned look on his face, so Felix turns away.

“I will, later.”

"Are you sure I can't even bring you some food?" Why, thinks Felix, is he being so annoyingly persistent?

"I'm sure," Felix responds with a bite of impatience in his voice. "As I said, I'll eat later."

A pause. “If you say so.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but Raphael leaves, along with some of the tension in Felix’s shoulders.

He glances up. It’s getting late and really, he _should_ go eat dinner. The training grounds are almost deserted by now, other people obviously also going for food while the dining hall is still open.

He knows Raphael is right. But he feels so restless. He thinks of the boar more often than he’d like, and of his father, still up there in Fraldarius territory fighting against the Empire. But despite that, Felix doesn’t regret his decision to work with Claude.

He’d wrestled with it a bit, in truth, at first. And so had Sylvain. They’d discussed it on their way down to Garreg Mach those few weeks ago, with Sylvain voicing some of his doubts out loud, unwittingly putting words to some of Felix’s own thoughts. Their leaving is ultimately weakening the Fearghus rebellion.

But the Faerghus rebellion is already nearly dead, and it's only a matter of time before it's crushed. With Claude and the Alliance, along with the professor, they have a chance of winning – and stopping Edelgard will also help the Kingdom.

Felix is not particularly attached to his country, and certainly not to its ideals. But this war is causing too much suffering and Claude – frustrating as he may be – not only wants to stop the war but also to build a new world. Maybe Edelgard wants that too, but – and even thinking of Edelgard pisses Felix off – how she’s doing it, Felix can never forgive.

It’s her fault Dimitri is dead. That so many are dead. It was her attack on Garreg Mach that lead to Byleth being lost for so long.

He clenches his hands into fists, ignoring the pain that shoots through his arm, and stomps over to grab a training sword. The door to the grounds open, a sound Felix is used to ignoring.

But when he turns around with the intention of pummelling a training dummy, he finds he’s facing Byleth, who runs her eyes over his body. It’s not in a salacious way – not in the way Sylvain might look a woman up and down – but in an appraising way.

“Raphael says you’re hurt,” she states, obviously looking at him to figure out what’s wrong.

He scowls. “I’m fine.”

How often does he say those two words? Often enough that they’ve become meaningless. _I’m fine_.

“Don’t lie to me.” An aggravated tone slips into Byleth’s voice. “You can hardly close your hand around that sword. Let me heal you.”

She seems on edge. Felix decides to ignore everything she’s just said. “Spar with me.”

“No. Let me heal you. It looks minor enough that even my Faith magic can fix it.”

“If I let you heal me will you spar?”

“No,” Byleth says again, still patient despite being clearly annoyed. “You’ve done enough training for today.”

Bristling, Felix turns away, heading for a dummy. He forces himself to grip the sword tightly, ignoring the pain that shoots up his arm. He needs to be able to fight even when he’s injured. He needs to be strong enough.

But Byleth clearly isn’t going to let this go. “Felix–“

“You’re not my Professor anymore, so save it.” The words are spoken harshly, more ugliness dripping from his mouth that he regrets as soon as he says it. His shoulders hunch up for a moment before he forces himself to smooth out, taking a deep breath and focusing on the training dummy, using the pain in his arm to ground himself.

She sighs. “I know that. And I know you don’t like me, but –“

“What?” He turns sharply, ignoring another wrenching pain in his side. “Why do you think I don’t like you?”

Byleth, usually the one with the direct gaze, looks away. “I’m not that oblivious,” she mutters.

Felix splutters, surprised. How could she think that? He’s always so worried it’s obvious to everyone how much he _does_ like her. Whenever she’s around, he can’t take his eyes off her.

But then, whenever she looks at him, he looks away.

And whenever she approaches him, he walks away.

“Look.” Byleth raises her head, and while her tone and expression is neutral, like this doesn’t matter, there’s a blush across her cheeks suggesting that it very much _does _matter. “Over-training will have you fatigued for our next battle, and we’ve got reports of increased Imperial activity getting closer. We know they won’t leave us alone. Let me heal you, and then go get some rest. We need you.” She pauses and looks uncertain, like there’s more she wants to say. But she stays quiet.

Felix is silent for a time, an uncomfortable feeling of shame creeping up his neck, as he stares at her, for once not looking away. Words stick in his throat.

“F-fine,” he says eventually, a creak in his voice, and Byleth’s eyes brighten a little, and she raises her hand as she steps closer. Felix feels the cool, refreshing feel of her magic soothe his aches. Her faith magic isn’t as powerful as Marianne’s, but Byleth is right – it’s enough for the knocks he’d picked up brawling too hard against Raphael to start feeling better.

Byleth is close to him now, close enough that it would easy to reach out and brush her hair behind her ear.

He doesn’t, of course. That would be ridiculous.

As soon as she’s done, Byleth steps back, and her lips turn upwards. It’s not a smile, just a poor attempt at one. Felix has seen enough of them to know. She doesn’t say anything else. She’s never really that chatty, so it’s not unexpected, and instead she turns and heads towards the entrance.

“Professor.” Felix calls out before he thinks about it, moving quickly across the training grounds, stopping a few feet behind her.

Byleth halts at the door, one hand on the handle as she looks back at him expectantly.

“I don’t…” he starts and then stops before continuing in a rush. “I don’t not like you.”

Byleth’s brows furrow, and he cringes.

“I mean, I _do_ like you.”

And then he cringes harder because somehow that sounds even worse. But Byleth’s lips quirk upwards again, except this time it’s into a real smile. Small but real. “Then maybe you should stop being an ass to me,” she says blandly, surprising him.

She’s right, though. “I-I’m sorry.” He feels a weight lift off him as he says it, and even more when Byleth’s smile widens. He hates that she’s thought he felt that way about her, and if he can do nothing else, at least he can correct that wrong.

He can’t treat everyone the way he does Sylvain or did Dimitri and expect them to put up with it. And he likes seeing her smile. She doesn't do it that often.

“I forgive you,” she says simply, with a tilt of her head.

He swallows and looks away, unable to hold her gaze.

“Just don’t do it again,” she continues, a note of warning in her voice.

“I won’t.” And then, “I promise.” He forces himself to look back at her, and meet that green gaze that seems to see right into his soul. “I’d still like to spar. It’s been a long time.”

Blyeth regards him for a moment, her scrutiny making him flush. “Tomorrow,” she eventually says. “Will you come eat with me? I’m hungry.”

Felix’s lips twitch despite himself. She’s less than half the size of Raphael and seems to eat just as much as him. But he nods and says, “You’re always hungry.”

Byleth pushes open the door and they begin walking side by side towards the dining hall.

“Maybe I’m making up for the last five years.”

She says it so deadpan that Felix isn’t sure if she’s making a joke or not, but he stops, suddenly angry.

After a step or two Byleth also stops and turns to look at him. “Felix?”

“It’s not.. don’t _joke_ about it,” he snaps and Byleth’s eyebrows raise.

Felix did not take promises lightly. But it’s taken him less than five minutes to break the one he’s just made to Byleth and his anger turns inwards.

And he knows if he stays here he’s going to say something else he’ll regret. So instead of letting Byleth reply, he sidesteps her and says. “I’m just going to go rest.” He starts walking rapidly away. “But I still want to spar tomorrow,” he calls back, hoping that by then he’ll have figured out a way to speak to her like a normal person.

.

They don’t get a chance to spar the next day, because the ‘increased activity’ they’d noticed from the Empire has turned into a full on vanguard bearing down on the monastery.

It’s exhilarating fighting alongside the Professor again. They’ve all changed and grown in the last five years, but she’s still the same. And that’s not a bad thing. She’s deadly and precise, eyes roving over the battlefield, constantly working through her tactics even as she slices through their enemies. She seems truly emotionless, the Ashen Demon she was once called, but Felix knows now it only looks that way because she’s so focused. If she’s at all bothered by the way he’d blown her off the last time they spoke, she makes no indication of it.

And he’s by her side, deflecting attacks with the Aegis Shield and moving as quick as Byleth to take down their enemies.

She’s magnificent.

And he has to admit to himself that he’s completely, utterly in love with her.

It’s incredibly _annoying_.

.

They successfully defend Garreg Mach, and the aftermath has Byleth busy. Felix doesn’t see her much, except at some meetings discussing the war effort. He’s battling with himself – with the need to run away from this, and the need to face it and overcome it. He’s not big-headed enough to think she feels the same for him – she’d thought until a week ago that he didn’t even _like_ her. This is something he must overcome, to get stronger.

Or so he keeps telling himself.

Still, when Claude casually touches the Professor while smirking over at him, Felix wants to stab him in the face.

He settles for glaring at Claude, and ignoring the anxious pit in his stomach at the thought of there being something more than friendship between Byleth and Claude, even if he has no right to feel that way.

.

Byleth finds him in the training grounds one evening, grabbing a training sword and saying nothing as she walks into his peripheral vision, watching him. Felix’s movements falter and then stops, and he looks from the training dummy to Byleth and then back again.

“…Well?” He asks eventually, irritated by her silence.

“Your form has improved.”

His heart thunders in his chest at the simple praise, but as usual, his mouth is quicker than his brain. “Of course it has, it’s been five years.”

Her lips twitch. “I know.”

Felix takes a deep breath and raises his sword towards her, speaking the language he knows best. “Shall we?”

Nodding, Byleth sheds her long cloak, tossing it over the training dummy. It’s not the first time Felix has seen her do this, but the long creamy skin of those powerful arms is always dangerously distracting. He wrenches his eyes away as she settles into a battle stance, and slides into the right mindset. He’s not so weak he’ll let the sight of her skin distract him. He won’t _let_ himself be that weak.

.

They circle each other slowly. Byleth remembers sparring with Felix well – after all, it’s been a lot less than five years for her. Some things about him are the same; but so much is different. He’s quicker, stronger, sharper. Five years of war have made him into a weapon in a way that no amount of training ever could have. She recognises that in herself, too.

Felix still attacks first. That hasn’t changed.

She’d seen how quick he was at the recent battle for Garreg Mach, so she’s prepared for it, sliding her foot to balance herself and blocking the attack. Their wooden swords clash and she’s briefly taken aback by his strength before she shoves him backwards with a grunt. It’s only a momentary reprieve before he’s on her again, and their dance begins in earnest. Felix’s eyes are bright, a sheen of sweat across his face, and his hair is coming loose.

He looks so beautiful.

His sword makes contact with her shoulder, making her hiss in pain and jump backwards, parrying his next blow. Internally, Byleth scolds herself. She’s felt off kilter ever since she woke up on that riverside and a stranger told her the date. It eats away at her, knowing what has happened in the years she missed, and while no one else seems to hold it against her, Felix definitely seems angry about the fact that she was gone for so long.

She’d never been sure what Felix thought of her when he was her student. Oh, he always wanted to spar, yes, because he admired her skill and strength. But she’d often got the impression he disliked her. But this is Felix. He could be exceptionally rude to people she knew he did like, like Sylvain, so she tried to not take it personally. She _shouldn’t_ care what he thought of her.

But she had. And she’d found her eyes lingering on him too much five years ago. Everyone thought of Felix as that boy who did nothing but train, but there was so much more to him, and she’d known that even back then. And now she can hardly look away from him, ridiculously handsome and still as complicated as ever. She can’t stop _thinking_ about him.

And somehow Claude has picked up on this and _won’t stop teasing her about it. _

Felix gets her with a painful hit to her side.

“Are you even trying?” He snarls, obviously picking up on her distraction.

She focuses, pressing forward from where he’s backed her into a corner. He’s forced to block a flurry of heavy blows, and Byleth gets in a good hit to his side, making him swear and back up to reposition himself.

She watches him carefully, keeping herself still for a moment. “Why are you angry at me?”

Felix’s eyes narrow. “Because you aren’t taking this seriously.”

Byleth presses forward again, this time managing a hit on his thigh that causes him to stumble. It’s only due to a wide slash from Felix that he manages to force her back again, and prevent her from forcing him to yield. “Not that,” she pants. “You’ve been angry since I got back.”

“Because you left,” he says, like the answer should be obvious. He gets back to his feet, still steady.

“I didn’t– I didn’t choose to.” Byleth can see his anger coming to the surface, and his blows become heavier, somehow even quicker.

“I’m still angry about it,” he growls.

That seems unfair, she thinks, but she doesn’t answer, needing to focus on her movements. They’re far more evenly matched than five years ago when Felix, no matter how skilled he was, simply didn’t have the experience to be a real challenge for someone who’d been fighting for as long as she could remember. Now, there’s really no telling who might win, and as they clash and parry and move around the training hall, Byleth thinks that this is exhilarating.

What wins it for Felix in the end is, of all things, a dancer move. Graceful and deadly he spins and turns, more beautiful than any man should have a right to be, and his training sword slams into her side, in the exact same spot it had before, winding Byleth and sending her sprawling into the dirt.

Felix has her sword kicked away from her hand and his own against her throat in an instant as he crouches over her. “Yield,” he orders in a low tone that sends a thrill down her spine, heat blossoming in her core. His face is close to hers.

Not close enough, she thinks.

“I yield,” she whispers, voice hoarse. Her side aches, and she’s sure that she’s probably going to have a fine bruise after this, but the pain seems distant at the moment. It’s too captivating, this up close view of Felix’s face, flushed from exertion, hair falling from his pony tail, eyes bright from their fight and his win.

She expects him to immediately move away, but he doesn’t, instead just staring at her, his chest heaving as much as hers with his sword still at her throat.

Byleth, mesmerised by his hair, more messy than she’s ever seen it before, reaches up to brush some loose strands behind his ear. His hair is as smooth as it looks, like silk between her fingers. Her thumb caresses his cheek, and her fingers run along the shell of his ear before sliding down to his neck.

Felix starts, eyes widening, and he pulls back with a hiss of breath. The sword disappears from her throat, and he stands, once again out of her reach. “What are you doing?”

She sucks in a breath and tries to swallow down every single feeling she’s experiencing, especially the disappointment. What _was_ she thinking, doing that? Especially to Felix, who she’s seen squirm like a sulky cat to get out of hugs and can’t handle more than a few seconds of eye contact at a time. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Scrambling to her feet, Byleth forces a smile to her face. He looks past her, over her shoulder. “Well done,” she says sincerely, hoping that drawing attention to his win will smooth over this awkwardness. It had been a good session, and he had bested her. She’s proud of him for that.

“Why did you do that?” He demands, meeting her eyes. His ears have gone red.

Embarrassment licks up Byleth’s back and across her shoulders. She doesn’t think she’s ever experienced this emotion before, not in such a way that it made her want the ground to open up and swallow her. And she feels bad, because Felix should be able to enjoy his first time beating her without having to wonder why she’s suddenly touching him inappropriately.

Shrugging, she bends down to pick up her discarded sword and makes her way across the grounds to store it. “Just forget about it,” she calls over her shoulder, making an effort to sound casual. She can feel her own face going red, and all she can think about is getting away from this mortifying situation. Time to make a speedy retreat. She puts the sword away and turns, prepared to make a beeline for the exit.

_Please forget about it._

But it’s Felix, so he doesn’t. “No,” he snaps, striding over to block her path, his arm stretching out in to rest his hand against the wall in front of her. “I don’t think I will.”

Byleth takes a deep breath, startled by his sudden closeness, her shoulder almost brushing against his chest. She can feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, but she doesn’t turn her head to look at him. In that moment, she’d have welcomed another Imperial attack on Garreg Mach because at least it would be a distraction and she wouldn’t have to answer.

Still, she decides to be honest.

“I just wanted to touch you.” Her voice is quiet, but Byleth can hear the longing tone in it. She really needs to get away before she says something that will make him avoid her again.

Felix takes a sharp breath, but before he can say anything Byleth rushes to say more because, for once, she doesn’t feel able to deal with his barbed words. “I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

Felix’s other arm comes up behind her, caging her in. Now she does turn to him, frowning, forced to back up against the wall as he crowds her. Byleth stares up at him, shocked by his dark eyes and the hungry expression on his face.

“And what if I want it to happen again?” His voice is a growl and it goes straight to the centre of her, heat pooling.

Oh.

_Oh_.

And because Byleth is a mercenary, good at adapting to changing situations, she slides both of her hands into Felix’s hair, destroying what remains of his ponytail, hair-tie falling to the ground, and hauls his face down to hers. Felix goes willingly, pressing her into the wall as their lips and bodies meet.

It’s clumsy at first, teeth clashing, angle awkward. But then Felix shifts against her, hands sliding down her sides to her thighs, and he hauls her up so her face is level with his. Byleth instinctively wraps her legs around him, gasping at the feel of him between her thighs, and Felix’s tongue slips into her mouth, sliding against her own, making her hold on tighter to him.

His kiss is aggressive, devouring. Much like his first attack in their duel, but his weapons this time are his surprisingly soft lips and an eager tongue.

If he’s trying to overwhelm her, he’s very much succeeding. But she’s kissing him back with as much fervour, and she locks her ankles together behind his back, keeping him captive against her while her hands continue to slide through his hair, delighting in the feel of its softness. When she rocks against him, needing to get closer, he groans into her mouth, the sound of it rumbling through her. She can feel him against her, growing hard and heavy and the kiss becomes a little more out of control as he begins to grind himself into her centre. Byleth feels almost desperate, wanting to claw off her clothes and his and get closer. She wants to lose herself in him.

Felix’s hands start to wander now that she’s securely pressed between him and the wall. They start by sliding up her sides and then over her breasts, where he stops and squeezes. At the same time, he bites her bottom lip, once more making her jerk against him. Byleth shudders, needing more, needing _him_…

And then the door of the training grounds slams open and they both freeze.

Byleth had completely forgotten where they were. Hesitantly, she draws her face back from Felix’s, trying to breathe quietly. Her eyes meet his and she can see he’s trying to do the same thing, his chest heaving as much as hers. Neither of them make a move. They’re concealed from anyone standing at the entrance to the grounds by one of the large pillars, but if whoever it is walks in and turns around, they’ll be seen.

Byleth hopes that whoever it is will just go away. It’s too late for someone to be training now, surely?

“It would appear Byleth is not here. Perhaps she is at the cemetery?”

_Seteth_. Why is Seteth, of all people, here at this time?

Byleth wants to groan. Seteth is probably the worst person to find them in a compromising position. His lectures about propriety were legendary among the students five years ago, enough to put all but the most brave – or stupid, or sexually frustrated – off having dalliances in public places, or even private ones.

Sylvain had received so many lectures from Seteth, he’d become able to do an uncanny impression of the man. It had also been hilarious, but as a Professor, Byleth could hardly admit to that.

And then _Byleth_ had gotten a lecture from Seteth, for the lack of respect and control being displayed by her students and how it was her duty to fix it. She'd sat through it the whole time with Sylvain's impression fresh in her mind, lips twitching as she tried not to laugh.

So no, she doesn’t want to see Seteth right now. She might no longer be a professor and there are no students here, but he will absolutely disapprove of what she and Felix are doing in a public part of the monastery.

“She doesn’t usually go there this late.”

And _that’s_ Claude’s voice. All they needed now for Sylvain to speak up and then it’ll be a real party.

At the sound of Claude’s voice, Felix’s grip tightens on her, except he’s still clutching at her breasts and it makes Byleth shift against him again, just managing to not grind onto his still hard cock. He tilts his head towards her, breath fanning across her face, and Byleth is disarmed by how good he looks right now. His lips are red and bruised, his face flushed, and his hair loose and in complete disarray, falling about his shoulders. She tightens her own hold on him, scratching his scalp with blunt nails, and he shivers, eyes falling closed.

Claude continues. “Is it really so important to find her tonight? We can discuss the letter and requisitions in the morn… ning.”

Some part of Byleth registers the strange pause in Claude’s words as something she should pay attention to, but it’s quiet and easily ignored because Felix lowers his head to her throat, pressing his lips to her sweat slicked skin, like he just can’t help but touch her. She whimpers quietly, lips pressing together in an attempt to mute the sound.

“I suppose it can.” Seteth sounds resigned. “It is not urgent, after all. I just thought she would appreciate the good news.”

“I feel like she’ll appreciate it better in the morning.” There is obvious amusement in Claude’s voice and Byleth knows she should care because he _knows_, she knows he knows, but Felix’s teeth are grazing the sensitive skin of her throat and she has to bite down hard on her lip so she doesn’t make a sound. Her hands slide to his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his jacket in her fingers.

“You are probably right.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, while I’m here, I think I might get some training in.” Claude’s footsteps can be heard as he moves into the grounds, and they both freeze again.

Felix’s breath is hot against her skin, making her shiver.

“Very well, Claude. I shall see you and Byleth in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Night night, Seteth. Sleep tight.”

The door to the training grounds closes, but Claude doesn’t move and Byleth knows she really should untangle herself from Felix because there are two things that can happen now. The first is that Claude really is here to train, which means he’ll come to get a training weapon and then he’ll see them. The second – and most likely option – is that he knows they’re here and he’s going to tease.

Claude doesn’t move. Instead, he calls out in a cheerful voice, “Hey, Teach.” Byleth starts against Felix in surprise, making him hiss against her neck, pressing his erection back into the centre of her. “I can see your cloak thrown over a training dummy, and a sword on the ground. So while I’m hoping you’re both still clothed in whatever dark corner you’re in, you might want to be a little more stealthy next time. You could have scandalised Seteth.”

Felix's head raises to meet her eyes again. For a second Byleth is worried about his reaction – not to Claude, but to her and what they’ve just done. But there seems to be no regret there, just annoyance at the interruption.

“Go away, Claude,” he says loudly, his voice rough.

“Wow, rude, Felix, I was talking to Teach. And this is a public area.” There’s a barely suppressed laugh in Claude’s voice. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to hear Felix’s voice. “I was just giving you some advice. Anyway, Teach, we got a letter from some of the fence sitting nobles of the Alliance saying they will work with us after all, and it’s opened up some trade routes to better feed the army. As I’m sure you heard me mention to Seteth, it’s nothing that can’t wait till morning.”

Byleth clears her throat. “Thank you.” She’s surprised by how rough her own voice is, and Felix’s eyes drop back to her lips.

“Oh, no need to thank me. Just remember that you owe me one for not ratting you out to Seteth. I bet that would be a lecture and a half. You should also be thankful I’m not here with Sylvain.” He pauses. “Or Hilda.”

Felix groans but doesn’t admit that Claude is right. Because he is right. Hilda would be delighted, but the news would be all around the monastery within the hour. She'd probably have Lysithea bake congratulations cookies. And Sylvain... well, he would probably say something that would definitely end with Felix stabbing him.

With a huff, Felix asks, “Are you going to talk us to death?”

“Nope. You heard me, didn’t you? I’m here to train.”

Byleth sighs and finally unlocks her legs from around Felix. Claude is determined to tease. Felix’s hands steady her as she regains her footing and for a moment he holds her there, his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. He looks well kissed, and she imagines she looks the same. Unable to resist, she stretches up, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. When she pulls back, Felix is flushing again, but there’s a small smile on his face.

“He’s annoying, isn’t he?” Felix doesn’t bother to lower his voice.

Claude calls out in a sing-song voice, “I can hear you!”

“You were meant to,” is Felix's peevish reply.

Reluctantly Byleth steps away from him, out from behind the pillar and towards Claude. Behind her, Felix is following having found his discarded hair tie and is trying unsuccessfully to put some manners on his hair.

Claude stares at them, a twinkle in his eye as he takes them in from head to toe, obviously noting how dishevelled they look. “Wow. I did not think you had it in you, Felix.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving up on his hair and going to grab his discarded training sword so he can put it away. Byleth retrieves her cloak, quickly sliding her arms into it and pulling it around herself. She suddenly feels cold without Felix wrapped around her.

“It’s good though,” Claude continues. “The pining was truly terrible to watch.”

“Shut _up_,” Felix snarls from across the grounds, his back to them.

Byleth is unimpressed with both of them, although she files away Claude’s words for later thought. She’d thought Claude’s comment was directed at her until Felix had reacted. It’s hard to picture Felix _pining_ for anyone, but it appears Claude was speaking to both of them. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he holds his hands up in response as if in apology. It’s ruined by the smirk still on his lips.

“No, but seriously, I’m happy for the two of you. I’m sure if the training grounds could speak, they’d bestow their blessing too. After all, this _is_ Felix’s church.”

Felix mutters something under his breath and then strides back across the grounds, grabbing Byleth’s hand before heading towards the door. “We’re leaving.”

“What, you don’t want to train? You of all people, _aren’t training_?” Claude gasps in mock shock, and even Byleth has to resist the urge to smile. Claude is enjoying himself with this far too much, and she really doesn’t want to encourage him.

So she hides her smile as she goes willingly with Felix, but turns back as she reaches the door to say goodnight to Claude.

He gives her a mock salute in return, still smirking as the door closes behind her.

Felix pauses once they’re outside, for the first time since they’d kissed looking a little uncertain. His face is endearingly red, and his eyebrows are furrowed. Her hand is still gripped in his, and she’s not sure if he’s realised that or if he doesn’t want to let go. Byleth watches as his eyes scan the area, but it’s deserted.

In truth, she feels a little uncertain, too. But she wants to see where this could go. She’s spent far too long thinking about Felix and wanting this, to lose him without even trying.

It’s terrifying, though, to place her heart in his hands, even if it doesn’t beat.

Thinking that, she glances down towards their linked hands and can’t help but laugh.

“What?” Felix sounds gruff, and when she looks back up at him again, he’s got a grumpy expression on his face.

“I was just remembering something you told me before.”

He glares at her with a suspicious look and asks in a flat voice, “What are you talking about?”

Byleth looks back down at their still linked hands. She pitches her voice to do her best, but still terrible, impression of him. “I’m more comfortable holding a sword than a woman’s hand.”

When she looks back at his face, she can see that he’s gone red again, and his shoulders hunch.

“That’s… why do you even _remember_ that?”

Realising he’s embarrassed, Byleth feels a little bad, the memory of her own recent mortification fresh. So, feeling emboldened, she grabs his other hand, stepping closer to him. “It was cute.”

“I’m not cute.” His gaze lowers, looking at their hands and tightening his grip on them, but he’s still frowning.

Byleth says nothing, although she greatly disagrees with what he’s just said. She’d been surprised to find Felix at the Goddess Tower on the night of the ball, and even more surprised when he went on a strange tangent about not caring for handholding or romance. She hadn’t _asked_.

But it had been cute. And rather hilarious, really, but she’d keep that to herself.

Then Felix says, quietly, “It’s still true though. I’m not used to… this.” He swings their arms a little to emphasis his point.

“Neither am I,” she responds honestly.

He seems at a loss for words, so Byleth lets go of one of his hands and leads him away, walking across the courtyard to the dormitories. Felix follows, still holding on tight to her, remaining silent. Dusk has fallen, and the monastery seems so tranquil, it's hard to believe they're at war. It’s quite a contrast to how Byleth feels inside, because her nerves are building the closer she gets to her room.

When they get there, she turns with her heart in her throat as she looks him in the eye and asks, “Would you like to come in?” She _knows_ what will happen if he comes in, and while she does want that, it's still making her nervous. It’s not like she’s never had sex before but… sex with feelings is new.

His throat bobs as he swallows heavily. But he nods, so Byleth takes a shaky breath and lets go of his hand to grab her key from her pocket to let them in. Felix follows her, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

In the middle of the room, Byleth turns, and fidgets with the sleeves of her cloak. Felix is regarding her with a heavy gaze that she can feel brushing along her skin, making her shiver. But he doesn’t move towards her.

“If you don’t want to–”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” His voice is still rough.

She blinks at him. “Actually you didn’t say anything, so…”

“Well I do,” he says impatiently. “I want…” He falters for a moment before a look of determination settles on his face. “I want you.”

Byleth startles, surprised by the sudden declaration, eyes widening as she takes in his expression. She’s seen that look before, when he’s set himself a task and he’s going to do whatever it takes to complete it. So she’s not really that surprised when he crosses the floor in a few long strides, cradling her face with his hands and kissing her.

It’s softer than their kiss back in the training grounds, but still full of heat. Byleth grabs his hips to pull him into her as she licks across his lips, demanding access. He opens to her, softly brushing his thumb along her cheek.

He pulls back from the kiss too soon for her liking, still with that determined glint in his eye. When his hands begin to undo the clasps of her cloak, she lets him work. The fabric pools in a puddle around her feet, and Felix takes her in, looking like he’s trying to figure out a complicated question.

But the answer is obviously quickly decided, because he begins pulling her shirt out of her shorts, and she lets her hands raise from his hips so he can yank it over her head. It gets thrown somewhere in the room, neither of them caring where it lands. Byleth is mesmerised by the look in his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being unwrapped too much to reciprocate.

For the moment.

His hands come to rest on her waist before he stops and frowns.

“You’re hurt.”

It’s where he’d hit her twice during their sparring – it’s beginning to bruise. In truth, it does hurt, but Byleth can deal with pain and it’s not bad enough for her to even consider stopping _this_. She can handle a bit of bruising.

“It’s fine.”

“You were sloppy. If we were on the battlefield, you’d be dead.” His eyes flick to hers again, just for a second, before he slides his hands around to her back, and then upwards to begin removing her breast band. “I’m pleased to have finally beat you, but I want to do it again. What had you so distracted?” The fabric around her breasts is pulled off her and flung impatiently away, and his hands immediately take greedy handfuls of the flesh displayed to him, his eyes locked on her skin.

Byleth grabs the back of his head, making him look at her. “You did.”

“Oh.” His ears redden – at _that_ and not at the fact that she’s topless and he’s kneading her breasts enthusiastically. He’s obviously going to say more – admonish her for being so easily distracted, most likely – but then his fingers begin to play with her nipples and she gasps at the jolt of pleasure it sends through her, like a lightning strike. It seems to distract Felix from whatever he was going to say, eyes darting between her breasts and her face as he continues his movements, taking in her open mouth and heavy lidded expression. Byleth knows he’s going to catalogue every reaction she makes.

She tugs his head towards hers and kisses him again, moving backwards until she hits the edge of her bed. He follows closely, keeping his lips against hers, and the fabric of his shirt scratches across her skin pleasantly.

But she wants that barrier gone, so Byleth begins to pull at his jacket, thankful he’s not wearing too much complicated armour today. Felix helps her, undoing clasps and buckles, and the jacket is quickly shed, followed by his shirt, and Byleth falls onto her bed, pulling him down with her, eagerly exploring his skin with her hands; feeling the strength in his arms, the hard muscles in his back, the delicious ridges of his abs leading down to where he’s quickly hardening again. Felix presses her into the bed, his hips settling between her legs. His lips leave hers to descend down her neck and to her chest, drawing a nipple into his mouth.

At first he’s gentle, making her squirm, but then he bites down. Byleth moans, a breathy noise she’s sure she’s never made before in her life, and his eyes raise up to her face again, clearly smug. He releases her nipple, murmuring “interesting” more to himself than her, and continues down her body. There’s clear impatience in him now as he pulls off her boots, shorts and tights, tossing them away with abandon and leaving her only in her already damp smalls.

He’s kneeling between her open legs, and his hands slide up the inside of her thighs, playing with the edge of the fabric. Byleth shivers.

“May I?” He asks almost shyly, looking at her from under his lashes.

Byleth grips the bedsheets, lifting her hips before he’s even finished speaking. “_Yes._”

He smiles, probably at her eagerness, and moves backwards to pull her underwear off. That too is tossed aside and Felix pauses to take her in, naked and flushed in front of him.

She grips the sheets even harder, a shiver running through her that has nothing to do with being cold. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

Felix smiles again. “Perhaps I like that.” His finger taps her ankle. “Move up the bed,” he demands, and Byleth raises her eyebrows at him, but does as he says, shifting up a bit and resting her head on the pillow. To her initial dismay he gets off the bed, but when she realises it’s just so that he can remove the rest of his own clothes, she smiles and enjoys the show.

It’s not even that he’s trying to put on a show – she doesn’t think that would even occur to him – and his movements are fast and jerky, obviously impatient. But still graceful, and still hypnotising to watch, and it hits her all at once that she’s naked and watching Felix remove his own clothing and she can’t quite believe it’s happening. She’d thought about it – this – happening, but only ever in an abstract way, never in detail.

Just as well, she thinks as Felix’s pants come off, because her imagination would never have done this justice.

But she hardly has a chance to admire his body before he crawls back onto the bed, hovering over her. It’s quite a sight to see him like this; his strong arms holding him above her, his hair loose, inky strands falling forward in disarray. His chest is heaving, with the blush from his face spreading down his neck. His cock is hard, and Byleth reaches between them to touch him, exploring the heavy weight of him in her hand.

Felix’s head drops forward, breath coming out in a hiss. He leans down to capture her lips, trapping her hand and his cock between them. Byleth throws her other hand into his hair, grabbing probably too tight, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining, moaning into her mouth as he ruts against her stomach.

She’s so distracted by the sound, she hardly realises when he shifts above her, moving his weight to one elbow so he can use his other hand to explore. Byleth can’t help but gasp when his fingers press into her wetness. At first his touch is almost tentative, enough to make her squirm but not _enough_.

“More,” she gasps into his mouth, and he grows bolder. When his thumb presses into her clit, she jerks and he pauses for a second.

She blinks open hazy eyes to see a pleased expression on his face. His movements are more deliberate now, and he watches her face as he does it again, and again, slipping his fingers inside her with ease, dripping as she is, stroking her walls insistently as his thumb plays with her clit.

Byleth can’t keep her eyes open. Her head falls back on the pillow and Felix increases the tempo of his onslaught by pressing biting kisses into her neck as he adds another finger into her wet core, curling them and brushing against a spot that makes her cry out with pleasure. It doesn’t take her long to fall apart, coming around his fingers with a soundless cry, nails digging into his back as she shudders while he continues to fuck her through her release.

.

Felix is, truth be told, rather pleased with himself for managing to make her fall apart so quickly. Byleth sighs as he slips his fingers from her, and their eyes meet as he raises his hand to his lips to taste her. Next time – he hopes there will be a next time – he intends to taste her right at the source.

She makes a pretty sight underneath him; mint hair fanned out around her head like a halo, a satiated expression on her face. But as she watches him lick his fingers, something sharpens in her, and before he knows it, she hauls him down to kiss her, and Felix only just manages to balance himself in time so he doesn’t crush her. His own arousal, that he’s been manfully ignoring, spikes again, and he’s so distracted that he’s taken by surprise when she skillfully flips them over and he finds himself on his back, with Byleth hovering over him.

He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

A sly smile crosses her face, and her hand reaches for his neglected cock. Her touch is soft, but it makes him shudder in pleasure, eyes closing. Byleth shifts above him, and then he feels her hot, wet centre slide over his cock and his hips lift off the bed, hands digging into the soft skin of her backside.

She slides back down again and he groans, loudly.

Her hands move up his chest, one of them coming to a rest on his neck, thumb over his racing pulse point.

Felix opens his eyes when she doesn’t move again. When he tries to thrust upwards, he’s held down by her strength and he grits his teeth.

“What are you _doing_?” He says again. “_Move_.”

That little devious smile appears on her face once more, and Felix’s annoyance ebbs away at the sight of it. She looks… well, she looks beautiful, as always, but it’s more than that. He’s never seen her look this open, and certainly not this light since she’s woken up. She’s taken on a lot of burdens and only now, seeing her relieved of it even if only temporarily, does he realise that – and realise that her strength isn’t only just physical.

She’s remarkable, he thinks. And she’s chosen him.

And then he doesn’t really think of anything because Byleth rises and lines up his cock and then takes him inside her to the hilt in one go. After that, the monastery could be burning down around them and Felix is pretty sure he wouldn't notice. She's not even moving and she feels incredible around him, wet and hot.

Her own mouth drops open in one of those breathy moans, and Felix is actually relieved when she takes a moment to gather herself before moving again, because she feels so good that he’s going to come far too quickly if he doesn’t get himself under control.

Cracking open his eyes with difficultly, Felix grabs her hips, careful to avoid the bruise he’d given her earlier. Byleth straightens up, meets his gaze, and lets her hands slide back down his chest to rest on his own hips. It’s a good thing he’d taken the chance to try and pull himself back from the brink, because once Byleth does start moving, she begins riding him in earnest immediately, and all Felix can do is close his eyes and throw his head back and thrust up into her, meeting her punishing pace. His fingers press into her skin, and each time she slides back down onto his cock, he moans, growing progressively louder. It seems to spur Byleth on to ride him faster, and she leans back, bracing herself on his thighs.

Felix manages to open his eyes again, needing to see how that looks, and it’s as good as he imagined. Byleth is bowed back over him, breasts bouncing from exertion, quiet gasps falling from her open mouth. His gaze travels lower to watch where they're joined and that – _that's_ quite a sight. He adjusts his grip to pull her down harder on him, watching his cock disappear into her.

Byleth's breath stutters, and he can feel her walls fluttering around him. Felix feels fit to burst, and knows he’s not going to last much longer. But he’ll be damned if he can’t wrangle a second orgasm out of her. So, pulling all his frayed self control together, he adjusts his hands and takes an even firmer grip of her and begins thrusting up harder.

“_Felix_!”

He has to shut his eyes again because otherwise it’s all going to be too much and he’s going to come; he can’t take the way she feels, the way she looks, _and_ the way she’s moaning out his name. He’s hardly aware of his own loud moans anymore, too focused on the noise of his skin meeting hers, the slick warmth between them, and her own sounds of rapture.

And then he feels her clench around him, and Byleth falls forward onto his chest with a muffled cry, so Felix at last gives himself over to the white hot pleasure, holding her tightly to him as he releases into her as she shudders above him, grinding down through the last of her own orgasm.

As he comes down and returns to reality, Felix feels boneless and more relaxed than he’s felt in… quite possibly the last decade. Byleth, still sprawled on top of him, appears to be in much the same way.

She raises her head a little to look at him with a fond expression that makes him feel a little embarrassed.

“Come here,” he says gruffly, sliding a hand to the back of her head, taking a moment to brush some hair out of her face before encouraging her to move up so he can kiss her; soft lazy kisses, made fuzzy by satisfaction and the overwhelming tiredness creeping over him. After a while, Byleth rests her head on his shoulder, and Felix thinks he lightly dozes for a time. Eventually she speaks in a soft voice. “I should really move.”

His hands tighten on her and she laughs softly. “I have to clean myself.”

Felix makes a disgruntled noise, but lets her go, resisting the urge to groan when she finally slides off his soft cock. He turns onto his side to watch her move across the room on legs that seem a bit unsteady, admiring her naked form. When she grabs a cloth and moves to wipe the insides of her legs, he does groan, because the sight of his own seed leaking out of her is far more arousing than it should be.

Byleth gives him a little smirk like she knows what he’s thinking and then returns to the bed, tossing a cloth at him too. Felix quickly wipes himself off and throws the cloth away, realising as he looks where it lands that her room is strewn with discarded clothes. His attention is drawn away from that as Byleth climbs back into the bed, this time drawing blankets over them.

She pauses as she does so, fingers crumpling the fabric. She looks at Felix from under her eyelashes. “Do you want to stay?”

Frowning, he raises himself up onto an elbow, surprised she’s even asking, and when he answers, it’s a bit peevishly. “What do you think?”

Byleth narrows her eyes. “I think it’s best not to make assumptions, especially with you.”

“What do you mean, _especially with me_?” He returns the look.

“Well, clearly I was wrong about you not liking me, so…” Byleth trails off and shifts her eyes away, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You could just give a yes or no answer.”

“_Yes_, I want to stay.” He sighs. “Lie down.”

She does so, and they take a moment to settle themselves against each other, her bed not really big enough for both of them. Felix helps her draw the blankets around them, and then cups her cheek with his hand, making the effort to keep eye contact.

“I do like you,” he says, voice strained. “More than I can say.” Byleth hooks a leg around his hip as she gets more comfortable, watching him carefully. “So much that I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I can understand that. I feel the same way,” she responds quietly, taking the hand touching her face and placing a kiss into his palm.

Felix swallows heavily, watching her. There's more he wishes he could say, but this is enough for now, he thinks. This is more than enough. Instead he kisses her, because he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of kissing her.

Byleth is the one to pull away first, giving him that clear eyed look. “Are you still angry with me?"

It takes him a moment to answer as he tries to sort through his feelings. _Yes_. _No_. He moves even closer to her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. Byleth’s hands immediately come up to stroke his hair. When he does eventually speak, his voice is muffled against her skin. “A bit. Don’t leave again.”

“I won’t,” she promises, even though they both know such a promise made during wartime is foolish. But Felix decides to let that go, for once.

“You left,” he says into her skin. “And Dimitri disappeared.” He sounds as lost as he’s felt over the last few years, and perhaps later he’ll feel embarrassed about this, but right now all he feels is safe. Like he's found home. “I looked for you both. And then he died, so I thought you had too. And then I looked for your body.” To his horror, he can feel tears building behind his eyes and he nuzzles into her warm skin, hoping that’ll be enough of a distraction to stop him from crying. He hasn’t cried in so very long. Not since he lost his brother. He hadn't even cried the first time he'd lost Dimitri, two years after Glenn; when he'd realised there was only a monster left wearing the costume of his friend. 

Felix shudders, and his hand on Byleth's hip tightens, fingers pressing into her skin like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again if he doesn’t hold on hard enough. He swallows hard, willing the tears away.

“Oh,” she breathes, running a hand up and down the skin of his back, over hard muscle and silvery scars. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

Felix shakes his head as much as he can given his position. “Don’t apologise.” The bite is back in his voice, but it’s gentler than usual. “Just don’t be so foolish as to do what you did before. Don’t leave me again.”

He can hear the sincerity and promise in her voice as she repeats her previous words. “I won’t.”

And this time, as he raises himself to kiss her again, Felix allows himself to believe her, just a bit. As he does so, he makes a promise to himself to stay by her side. Whatever they face in this war, she won't be alone, facing an onslaught like she had at Garreg Mach five years ago.

They'd be together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, apparently I had more to say about these two.

The first night Felix spends with Byleth is a mostly sleepless one – for him, at least. He hasn’t shared a bed with another person since… since he had been a child, when he’d visited Fhirdiad and he, Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid would pile into Dimitri’s stupidly large bed in the palace. They’d giggle and eat food and tell each other silly stories late into the night. Sometimes Glenn would sit with them for a while, but he never crashed into the bed and slept the whole night with them. He was only a few years older than Sylvain, but he seemed so much more grown up than the rest of them, all ready to be a knight even then.

Those memories aren’t ones Felix wants to linger on right now and, anyway, _that_ was very different from _this_.

Even as an adult, whatever quick liaisons he’d had with other people had never escalated to bed sharing. It had been relief from the stress of war, furtive and quiet in campsites. Nothing more. Mostly less, if he’s being honest. At times he’d been left wondering why he’d even bothered, annoyed with the mess or how long it was taking…

But now, this… _this_. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. He particularly likes the feel of Byleth sprawled across him, leg thrown over his hip, breasts pressed against him, face tucked against his neck. One of her hands is curled into his hair. She’s so warm, and such an enticing mix of hard and soft. And she seems to be completely out for the count, her breathing slow and steady against his skin. Felix rather envies her that but it is, at least, a comforting sound. There’s a part of him that’s extraordinarily _pleased_ that she’s able to sleep like this around him. He knows how much trust it requires.

It’s just that he’s very much not used to it. Every time he begins to doze off, it seems like Byleth moves or sighs in her sleep and it’s enough to wake him up again, on high alert, fingers curling for his weapon and finding only a warm body instead. So as nice as this is, he can’t relax, and he can’t switch his brain off, constantly replaying the events of the past evening. Even just twelve hours ago if anyone had said he’d end up in Byleth’s bed, he’d have scoffed and shoved them away, because it would probably have been Sylvain saying it.

Then there’s also the issue of how much he wants to touch her. A large part of him wants to wake her up, pin her on her back and kiss his way down her body.

But he doesn’t want to disturb Byleth’s rest and he’s uncertain if she’d like that. He’s uncertain about how to do… _this_. How to be with someone, even if you loved them. It’s not like he’s had any examples of it in his life. He thinks his father had loved his mother, but Felix doesn’t even remember her. Dimitri had lost his mother young, too. Ingrid’s mother had died in childbirth, after giving birth to another uncrested baby, hoping that this child would be the one to share Ingrid’s burden. Annette’s father had abandoned his family, while Mercedes’s stepfather treated both her and her mother terribly once he had a crested son of his own.

And then there are the Gautiers, who are more cold and as chilly with each other than the roughest Faerghus winter. Sylvain’s parents could hardly stand to be in the same room together – so much so that even Felix has wondered how they’d managed to conceive two children without killing each other. Perhaps, after Miklan, the Margrave’s intense desire for a crested child somehow willed Sylvain into existence and his wife had nothing to do with it.

So, no. Felix is aware enough to know that he didn’t grow up with decent relationships to learn from.

But that’s Faeghus nobility for you.

And he didn’t even manage to tell Byleth that he loves her. Should he? Does it seem too soon? They’d agreed to stay together and perhaps… perhaps they can just work from that?

Growing frustrated, Felix would have tossed and turned in annoyance if it weren’t for the body sleeping so soundly on top of him.

He really doesn’t want to wake her. She needs the rest.

So does he.

This is so _stupid_.

The night drags on and Felix remains restless. As dawn breaks he gives up and gently manoeuvres himself out of Byleth’s hold. She doesn’t stir, and he remains torn on whether he should wake her up or not, especially when she rolls over into the space he’s just left, hand grasping like she’s searching for him.

In the end he doesn’t, letting her sleep. He dresses quickly and slips out quietly to head to the training grounds. He may be tired, but he still feels worked up and full of nervous energy.

He can talk to Byleth later, and maybe by then he’ll know what to say.

.

Later that morning, Felix strides into the Cardinal’s Room, where Byleth is with Seteth and Hilda – the latter of whom looks exceedingly bored. When he’d joined the Golden Deer house, Felix’s opinion of Hilda had been very low. Lazy, spoiled, selfish. He’d been surprised to see how skillfully she wielded that giant axe she carried into battle and, admittedly, a little impressed. Since then, he thinks a _little_ bit better of her, and he respects her strength, even if he still thinks she’s spoiled and selfish.

“Prof–“ Felix says, and then stops. He’d been in her _bed_ last night.

Had he called her Professor, or Byleth? Had he called her anything?

_Shit_.

Byleth and Seteth are looking at him expectantly. Hilda simply stares at him with her eyebrows raised, a faint look of amusement on her face. She probably knows exactly what happened with Claude in the training grounds last night, because those two are as thick as thieves. It’s even worse when they get together with Sylvain.

Felix has thankfully not yet seen Sylvain today. He suspects Sylvain will take one look at him and _know_, somehow.

He clears his throat, deciding to brush by the awkwardness he’s feeling, although all it does is make him sound gruff. “I’ve a letter from my father – he’s willing to spare some troops.” He walks towards them at the head of the table and hands over Rodrigue’s letter that has all the details – it's scant on personal comments, so he doesn't mind showing it. Byleth and Seteth lean over the letter, reading quickly.

“Excellent!” Seteth proclaims. “More good news.”

Byleth hums as she turns her attention to another piece of parchment. “We’ll be able to better defend the monastery if we’re attacked again, and we should be able to keep the highroad safe for the merchants.” She scribbles something down before glancing up at Felix. “Are things well for your father?”

“Stable,” he replies, even as he feels his ears going red as he tries to remember how to be normal. How did he act around Byleth before?

Oh that’s right, _like an idiot_.

Forcing himself to continue, feeling the scrutiny of three sets of eyes on him, Felix goes on. “From what his contacts in Fhirdiad tell him, the Dukedom army has stopped attacking Rebellion territories because they’re worried about the threat of the Alliance.”

“Because you and Sylvain are here?” Byleth asks.

“Possibly.”

Seteth makes some notes of his own on the parchment in front of him, before returning his attention back to Felix. “It must be difficult to see your homeland in such disarray.”

Felix tenses. He doesn’t want to have a conversation about his feelings about Faerghus. “People are suffering everywhere. It’s not just Faerghus. I’ll help them by stopping this war.”

Seteth nods, but still keeps looking at him in that appraising way that makes Felix feel like a student again. Thank the goddess he hadn’t caught them last night in the training ground. On reflection, Claude _had_ been the lesser of two evils. “Of course,” Seteth says. “Once we have defeated Edelgard and rescued Lady Rhea, hopefully we will be able to send aid to Faerghus.”

From beside him, Hilda sighs dramatically. “There’s _so_ much on this list of requisitions.” She stands, neatly stacking the papers into a pile and gathering them in her arms. “It’s going to take forever.” With a pout, she leaves.

Neither Seteth or Byleth respond to her mild whining – Felix guesses that they’re used to it. Clearly they trust Hilda to get it done. Or at least to find someone to get it done for her.

“I must also take my leave of you both. I promised Flayn I would make time for lunch with her today.” Seteth smiles fondly as he mentions his sister, but it’s not lost on Felix that he also takes his paperwork with him. It’ll likely be a working lunch. Soon, Seteth is also gone, gently shutting the door behind him.

And Felix is left alone with Byleth, who stands and faces him with a small smile on her face.

“Hi,” she says, and it’s such a simple statement, a nothing, and it still makes him blush.

He’s very aware of the little pouch of herbs in his pocket and unsure how best to bring them up. But when Byleth takes a step towards him, he hastily grabs them and holds the pouch out to her, bringing her up short. “Here. Take these.”

Byleth’s eyebrows raise, but she takes the offered pouch and opens it, peering in before taking a tentative sniff.

“Oh.”

“I, ah…” Felix raises his eyes towards the ceiling, unable to look her in the face. “I was inconsiderate last night. I should have made sure you didn’t mind before I…” He gestures vaguely, hoping she’ll understand. The realisation had struck him like a Thoron spell when he’d been aggressively attacking a training dummy – that they hadn’t taken precautions. He’d immediately gone skulking around the greenhouse, knowing enough of what he needed to fix the... _issue_ and grateful no one had asked him what he was doing.

“Before you came inside me?”

Felix knows a lot of people think he’s blunt and straightfoward. They’ve clearly never met Byleth. His face burns and he _still_ can’t look at her. But her voice is mild, as it usually is. At least she doesn’t seem annoyed. So he just snaps his head in a short nod in reply.

“I hardly minded,” she says, sounding a little amused. “And anyway, I was on top.” Byleth keeps talking but for a moment Felix blanks out, images of her riding him ramming his brain. He takes a deep breath and gets himself under control, paying attention to what she’s saying. “I already brewed myself the tea this morning. Manuela always has some on hand.” Her lips twitch. “She was very put out when I wouldn’t tell her who my mystery gentleman was. So don’t worry.”

“I see. Good.” It is good, Felix knows. A pregnancy would be a disaster. But she’s so matter of fact about it. How is she able to talk about things like this and not be bothered?

“I did miss you this morning, but I assumed you went to train.”

That makes him lower his gaze. He _had_ wondered what she’d thought about waking up alone. “Ah. Yes. I did.”

Byleth smiles, that twinkling smile he’d seen in bed last night, and tosses the pouch of herbs onto the table before stepping closer to him, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. As he lets himself fall into it, Felix relaxes, suddenly realising how tense he’d been – with some fear she’d only wanted him for one night, or that she’d changed her mind about him, despite everything they’d shared. Once again he considers telling her the truth of his feelings, but only for a second before he brushes it aside.

_No, not yet_.

So instead, he does what is easier; Felix deepens the kiss, trying to let her know his feelings with actions and not words. Byleth backs up to the table before hopping up onto it, and Felix steps in between her legs, letting his hands run down her sides, over the curves he’d explored the night before and wanting to do so all over again.

But the sound of distant voices breaks them apart. Byleth blinks at him, looking a little dazed as she caresses his cheek.

“Maybe not here?” she says with a smile.

Felix glances towards the closed door. People are often coming and going from this room at this time of day. “Later,” he responds decisively, taking a step back and helping her down off the table.

It’s just in time, because the door is opened and Claude strides in, followed by Lorenz. To the surprise of absolutely nobody, they’re arguing about something. Felix immediately tunes it out, keeping his attention on Byleth, who is still smiling at him.

“Ah, Professor, Felix.” Lorenz cuts off whatever Claude is saying when he realises the room is occupied. He’s wearing a polite smile on his face, only slightly strained. Behind him, Felix notices Claude make a face at Lorenz’s back, and bites back a smile.

Lorenz is more bearable than he’d been five years ago, true, but Felix still has little to do with him. Their relationship hadn’t gotten off to a good start back then, because Lorenz had some fool idea that Felix wasn’t upholding noble ideals, especially as the future Duke and Shield of Faerghus.

It was not a conversation that had ended well, with Felix furious and Lorenz offended by his biting words.

So, no. He doesn’t like Lorenz, even now. The feeling is mutual. When she'd been their teacher, even Byleth hadn't scheduled them to do chores together, correctly assuming that forcing them to spend time together would make things worse.

Lorenz rounds the table. “Claude and I were discussing some of the trade routes between Garreg Mach and Leicester. We’ve had some disagreements on which will work best. Professor, perhaps you can assist?”

Claude speaks up. “Lorenz seems to think I’m favouring Riegan territory over the rest of the Alliance, when my reasoning is that Derdriu is the most populated city in the country, and–“

“But not,” Lorenz interrupts him archly, spreading out a map of Fódlan on the table, “the only city.” He carefully pushes papers and letters out of the way, knocking over the little bag of herbs, spilling some onto the table. “Oh! I do apologise. Are these yours, Professor?” He picks up the bag, attempting to secure the tie and hands them to her.

The sour smell wafts over Felix, who freezes, wondering if Lorenz knows what these are for.

Judging from the way Lorenz pauses and his smile freezes in a grimace, he certainly does.

Byleth, unperturbed, takes the pouch from him, closing it and disappearing it into one of her pockets.

Claude saunters over. And damn him, he laughs. “Glad to see you two had a good time last night.”

Felix turns a glare on him, and Lorenz whispers out a scandalised, “_Claude_!”, while Byleth remains unbothered, although she turns to Claude with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to make another comment.

“I apologise, Professor,” Lorenz stutters out. “On behalf of Claude, too.”

Byleth waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re all familiar with birth-control.”

Raising his eyes to the ceiling because he doesn’t want to accidentally make eye contact with anyone in the room – and that includes Byleth – Felix can feel himself blushing again. But there’s also a part of him that wants to laugh, just because of the way Lorenz is spluttering in surprise at her words, said so casually.

And Felix suspects Byleth _might_ be having fun at their expense, but she sounds like she always does, so she might also be serious. It’s genuinely very difficult to tell.

Claude’s loving it, no surprise to Felix. He drops an arm across Lorenz’s shoulders. “Of course. Wouldn’t do to have a lot of little bastards running around, now, would it? Wouldn’t be very noble, _would it_?”

“No.” Lorenz clears his throat, and straightens up, shrugging Claude’s arm off. “It would not,” he says stiffly. “But this conversation is inappropriate.” His eyes dart between Byleth and Felix, a question in them, but one he doesn’t voice.

“We’re all friends, here, aren’t we?” Claude asks. He grins at Felix. “Did you learn what those are from Sylvain? He could give a seminar on preventing pregnancy.”

Felix lowers his eyes to scowl at Claude and roughly replies, “You are not my friend.”

Claude presses a hand to his heart. He keeps a smile on his face and speaks in a tone of mock hurt, but his eyes have turned cold and Felix wonders if his words had perhaps been too harsh. “I’m wounded, Felix. I thought we had something special.”

“Claude.” Byleth tilts her head at him and the two share a look, communicating something silently. Whatever it signifies, Claude’s eyes warm again as he looks at her.

It prickles at Felix, a reminder of how close they are. _Claude_ probably knows when Byleth is joking and when she isn’t.

His scowl deepens.

Lorenz clears his throat theatrically. “_Anyway_. May we discuss something of importance now?” He gestures to the map with a pointed look, and it’s enough to get everyone back on track.

Felix slinks away, not needing to be part of this conversation about trade routes in the Alliance. He makes his way towards the door, but turns back before leaving for one last look at Byleth.

She’s watching him, and her lips turn upwards slightly as she meets his eyes.

Beside her, Claude and Lorenz are arguing again, and don’t notice.

Felix returns the smile, feeling heat spread up his neck as they look at each other, and it’s enough to take the sting away from the knowledge that Claude knows her better.

.

While he carries Byleth’s smile with him for the rest of the day, Felix still feels restless and unable to settle. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s still processing what happened with Byleth, or because of the letter from his father.

It’s made even worse by the fact that he’s on stable duty with Sylvain. It’s not a chore he enjoys, although he knows it's something Sylvain does like. But it feels wrong to Felix, to be here without Ingrid. As he mucks out the stalls, his mind wanders. If he closes his eyes he can almost hear their voices – Ingrid grooming her pegasus down one end, while Sylvain feeds apples to his mare down the other.

But Ingrid is not here now. She’s still in Galatea. Safe, at least. But he knows from his father’s latest letter that things are bad there.

The horses seem to pick up on his brooding mood. Even Sylvain is quiet, murmuring and humming quietly to the horses as they work their way through the list of chores.

It irritates Felix. After almost an hour of it, he marches over to the stall Sylvain is in, standing in the open entrance and glaring.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Sylvain raises his head from his work, rubbing sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He blinks at Felix. “A lot. You need to be more specific if you expect me to answer that question.”

“Ugh. Why are you being so quiet?”

A slow grin spreads across Sylvain’s face as he stares at Felix. “Are you annoyed… because I’m _not_ talking?”

“What? No.” Felix responds hotly. “I’m just used to you prattling on like an idiot. Did you hit your head?” His eyes scan Sylvain, who looks to be in perfect health.

The grin widens. “I think you’re worried about me.”

Felix shoots him a withering glare. “We’re–“

Sylvain cuts him off, lowering his voice to an almost pitch perfect expression of him. “_We’re at war._” Raising his voice, he continues, ignoring Felix’s disgruntled expression. “I’m aware. I just…” He shrugs. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Felix swallows down the biting comment that’s instinctual for him to reply with. Something like, _so there’s something going on in that empty space after all_? Instead, he narrows his eyes at Sylvain. “Is it about Ingrid?” he asks abruptly.

“What? No, you know she’s f–“

“The boar?”

Sylvain sighs. “No. Felix–“

“What then? Your father?”

“_No_.” Sylvain drags his hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “It’s not important.”

“It is if it’s distracting you. It could get you killed. We don’t have time for distractions.” As he speaks, Felix realises he’s a hypocrite.

And so does Sylvain. His gaze sharpens. “I know you spent the night with the Professor. Is that not a distraction?”

Felix _harrumphs_, annoyed. “If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just kept thinking about it. You and her.”

Face turning thunderous, Felix steps into the stall and punches Sylvain’s shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble back. “Don’t do that, you pervert,” he snarls.

“Ow, _Felix_!” Sylvain complains, rubbing his shoulder. “Not like _that_. Do you really have such a terrible opinion of me?”

Felix doesn’t deign to answer that question, forcing himself to calm down. “So _what_, exactly, were you thinking about?”

Sylvain sighs. “Do you love her?”

Felix stills, eyes darting away from the earnest expression on Sylvain’s face. He hadn’t expected that. “Uh.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I think I know the answer.” Sylvain sighs, still rubbing his shoulder. “Just, like I said, I’ve been thinking. About love.”

Felix stares. There’s something in Sylvain’s demeanour he’s never seen before. He’s thrown around the word _love_ in the past, but they both always knew there was nothing serious about it. The word fell from his mouth easily, a pretty lie. Sylvain didn’t even like the women he bedded, having already decided that anyone who might go to bed with him is only doing it to get a crest baby out of him. Felix has never been able to understand why Sylvain acts the way he does. Maybe some of those women were out for his title and his crest, sure. Even Felix had been approached by those who wore that kind of interest clear and obvious, but they were easy to get rid of.

However, he’s also seen girls who he knows didn’t deserve the way Sylvain treated them, crying in corners of the monastery while their friends glared and whispered behind their hands.

Sylvain acted like there was something disgusting about them because they’d wanted him, like there was no other reason to want him except for his title and his crest.

And then Sylvain would go and turn that fake charm on someone else, and inevitably a _someone else_ would fall for it, it despite knowing better. Because Sylvain lied and smiled and told them they were important, and while Felix is still figuring out Byleth, he knows Sylvain well enough to know when he’s being a liar.

It had always annoyed them all, but Felix generally walked away, irritated, while Ingrid would always chastise Sylvain. But mostly they had all just… accepted that that was how Sylvain was.

But this. What the fuck is _this_?

“Okay,” he says, wondering what he’s supposed to say to Sylvain. “What about it?”

Sylvain’s mouth twists in a cynical smile. “It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?”

Felix feels like there’s something that Sylvain is telling him without actually telling him. “Are you in love?” he asks, and then something occurs to him and he steps forward, anger flaring again. “Are you in love with the Professor?”

“What? No, I’m not in love with her!” Sylvain side-steps Felix with his hands raised. “Honestly, Felix, you’re being ridiculous. And seriously? Are you still calling her Professor? That’s kinky.”

Unclenching his fists, Felix folds his arms and decides to ignore the last thing Sylvain said, mollified that he’s telling the truth otherwise. “Then what is it? Just tell me so we can be done with the conversation.”

“The conversation you started.”

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain sighs. “Look, it’s nothing, really. Just forget I said anything.”

“No.”

Raising his eyes to the roof of the stables, Sylvain takes a deep inhale through his nose. Felix realises it’s something that he’s done himself when he’s been frustrated with Sylvain in the past and he narrows his eyes, wondering if this really is all a joke.

“Okay, fine.” Sylvain turns sincere. “I think I’m in love. For real. Not, you know, how it was before.”

“Oh.” Once again, Felix isn’t sure what to say. “Will you tell her?”

“Nah, it would never work out with them.”

“Why– _is it Ingrid_?” Felix asks, angry again. “Because–“

Sylvain drags a hand down his face. “_No_.”

Felix keeps glaring. “You said them. Is it a man? It better not be me.”

Sylvain laughs, sounding as amused as he does incredulous. “You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“I know my own worth.” Felix is aware of how arrogant that sounds, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Out of the two of them, it’s _Sylvain_ that doesn’t, purposely hurting others and himself.

But then, while Felix has many criticisms about his own father, Rodrigue had never pushed marriage on him. He may have prioritised the boar over Felix, but he’d never made him feel like he was valued only for his crest.

But Felix knows what it means, especially to hold a major crest. He knows it doesn’t make him better than anyone else, but it does make him desirable. His feelings towards his crest are positive only because of the strength it gives him.

It’s different for Sylvain, who has by now stopped laughing and is looking at him fondly.

“And you should, Felix,” Sylvain says honestly before he turns teasing. “So you’ll be devastated to know that while I love you, I am not _in_ love with you.” He steps forward swings an arm around Felix, hugging him close, but Felix tenses his shoulders and slinks out from under him.

“Get off me.” But there’s no heat in the words, and Sylvain knows it. “So who is it?”

But Sylvain just shrugs, smile turning wooden. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

Once again, Felix struggles with what to say, because he’s not used to _this_ kind of Sylvain. But something about the defeatist attitude irritates him. “Don’t be a coward.”

“Felix.” Sylvain suddenly sounds tired. “I don’t want to be mean, but up until yesterday you could hardly even look the Professor in the face. She made the first move, didn’t she?”

Felix scowls. And blushes, because it makes him remember the way Byleth had skimmed her fingers across his cheek and touched his hair and made him realise that she felt something for him. He’s not sure if Sylvain would take that as making the first move, but judging from his raised eyebrows, he’s already decided on the answer.

Sylvain goes on. “Really, don’t worry about it.” He raises his arms behind his head and fixes Felix with a genial smile that might have fooled someone else. “As I said, I’ll get over it.”

Felix runs through everyone in the monastery in his head, wondering who could possibly have Sylvain like this. He’s not sure he’s seen him bring anyone back to his room since they’ve been back at Garreg Mach.

So who…?

Sylvain laughs again. “I can see you thinking. You should give up.” He pauses briefly. “But hey, Felix, I was thinking of something else too.”

“What?” he asks, allowing the change of topic.

“Even though you have the Professor now, I hope you haven’t forgotten our promise.”

“Of course not.” Felix’s response is brusque, but then he makes the effort to meet Sylvain’s eyes. “I would never.”

Sylvain is pleased. “Good. Can I hug you now?”

“_No_.” Felix steps out of his reach and goes back to his work, Sylvain’s laugh following him, wanting to finally finish the chores.

But he keeps mulling over their conversation.

It’s later as he’s leaving, while Sylvain grooms his mare, does something occur to him. He wanders down to the stall Sylvain is in. “Sylvain? How did you know I was with the Prof– _Byleth_ last night?”

Is it weird that it feels weird to say her name?

Sylvain smirks at his self-correction, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge it. “Oh, I met up with Claude last night. He told me what happened in the training yard.”

“Oh.”

Sylvain – uncharacteristically – says nothing else, and there’s just the _swish, swish_ of the brush as he smooths it across the horse’s flank.

With that, Felix takes his leave, trying to figure out what’s bothering him about Sylvain’s answer. On the face of it, it makes sense. He ran into Claude, who told him. Because of course Claude told him.

But…

_Claude_.

The exaggerated nonchalance, even for Sylvain, of _oh,_ _I met up with Claude_.

He and Claude used to play chess a lot together, when they’d been students. They’re still friends, often together despite their duties.

Is he reading too much into it? Sylvain is friends with the rest of the Golden Deer, and with the remaining Blue Lions, even if they’re not here. Surely it must be someone out of those two groups that he loves? Who else is there? Sylvain and Hilda have a somewhat acerbic friendship, but they’re definitely friends. He doesn’t think it could be any of the other Golden Deer, though. But what of those he’s still in touch with elsewhere? Felix believes Sylvain when he says it’s not Ingrid, but what about Mercedes or Annette?

Mercedes could probably handle Sylvain, but Felix will absolutely punch him again if it’s Annette.

But why does his mind keep circling back to _Claude_?

Halfway to the bathhouse, Felix pauses, trying to decide whether to go back and question Sylvain more. In the end he doesn’t, because he’s not sure if he’s right and anyway, it’s Sylvain’s business.

He just wishes he could forget the way Sylvain had said _it’s pretty painful, isn’t it? _when talking about being in love.

Felix thinks of Byleth.

Maybe, yes, love is painful, and Sylvain is right. But only partially. It’s not pain that comes to mind when he thinks of Byleth – not now, anyway. And the pain he felt before was because he’d thought she was _dead_.

Thinking about that is enough for him to change his destination, heading straight to Byleth’s room, where he knocks on the door and waits impatiently, hoping that she’s inside but knowing that she could be anywhere.

To his immense relief, the door opens, revealing a casually dressed Byleth, which means she’s probably done with her duties for the day. Without thinking any further, Felix steps inside, sliding a hand into her hair and leaning down to kiss her.

While Byleth initially responds, stretching upwards and reaching out to grab him, their lips have only just brushed before her hand shoots up between their faces, pushing his mouth away from hers and taking a step back.

“You stink,” she says bluntly.

He pulls her hand away from his mouth, frustrated. “I was on stable duty. You should know this, you assigned it.”

“So? Go take a bath. Everyone has to do stable duty sometimes.”

“I just wanted–“ Felix cuts himself off, irritation breaking through. This isn’t what he’d imagined when he’d come to see her. “Fine,” he snaps, turning on his heel and marching away, dutifully heading in the direction of the bathhouse but angry about it.

He ignores Byleth when she calls his name.

.

Scrubbed and clean and smelling of something woody and pleasant, Felix tries to sink into the hot water and relax.

But it’s no use.

He can’t help but feel he _might_ have overreacted to Byleth earlier.

He had smelled of horse shit, after all.

Sinking lower and tipping his head back to rest against the edge of the bath, Felix closes his eyes, trying and failing to ease the tension from his shoulders.

The sound of someone else entering the bathhouse reaches his ears, but he pays it no mind. There are always people coming and going and he’d chosen one of the smaller, private baths, where he wouldn’t be disturbed. These private baths are technically for the nobles only, but that rule has long since ceased to be observed.

Except it’s not a moment later when he hears the door to his section being slid back and he sits up, furious–

– only to see Byleth standing there with an unfathomable expression and the anger drains away immediately.

“What are you doing here?”

She tilts her head, eyes dancing across the parts of his torso exposed to her before returning to his face. “Can I join you?”

He blinks, having not expected that. But he hardly has to think about the answer. “Yes.”

Nodding in reply, she takes a step away and begins shedding her clothes.

Felix’s mouth goes dry.

Her movements are completely without a hint of self consciousness, as smooth and fluid as she is on the battlefield. He’d stripped her of her clothes himself just a day ago, and yet this is still so very alluring.

The long coat comes off, and is folded a little haphazardly before being placed on the bench. Then she sits down and takes off her boots before standing up again to pull her bodice off, leaving Felix staring at her still bound breasts. Next, she turns slightly and slides her shorts down her legs, and then her tights, and Felix is still looking at her ass when she turns around and he realises that she’s topless. In the same quick, efficient manner, she pulls down her smalls, leaving her naked.

She catches Felix’s eyes, looking amused by his expression. He makes an effort to close his mouth, swallowing heavily as he watches her step into the bath, sinking down with a sigh as she hits the hot water, resting her back against the side opposite him. She’s close enough that their legs brush together, but altogether still too far away.

Byleth begins with no preamble. “I’m not apologising for saying you stink, because you did, but I’m curious – what were you going to say before?”

He drags his eyes up from the sight of the tops of her breasts skimming the top of the water. “…What? When?”

Byleth shifts and her calf brushes against his. Her mouth curls up in a way that tells him she knows he’s distracted. “Just now, before you left. You said, _I just wanted_ and then you stopped.”

Felix tilts his head back, closing his eyes, a little embarrassed. “Nothing,” he sighs.

The water ripples and then splashes across him as Byleth moves forward, nudging his legs down so she can straddle him. Her thighs press against his and Felix can feel himself getting half hard as she skims her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. His hands, stretched out across the back of the bath, clench with the need to touch her.

“Tell me,” she whispers.

Felix sighs, resigning himself to answer. Still keeping his eyes closed, he says, “I just wanted to see you.”

He’s rewarded with Byleth moving closer, and his breath stutters as he feels her breasts press against him. There’s a brush of her hair against his cheek and then her lips at his neck, so on display to her with his head tilted back. Felix shudders as her teeth drag along the sensitive skin, and then again when she smooths her tongue and lips over him.

Sagging back against the edge of the bath, Felix lets her work for a moment. The strain in his shoulders has finally relaxed, but there’s a very different type of strain building up in him. And because he’s not one to be passive, it’s not long before he can’t help but touch her too, tipping his head down to capture her lips in a proper kiss while his hands slide greedily across slippery, wet skin. He presses deep, open kisses into her mouth, and when she slips a hand between them to take a firm grip of his cock, Felix can’t help the loud groan that seems to bounce off the walls of the bathhouse.

They both stop moving like they’ve just remembered where they are at the same time. Byleth pulls back, blinking at him.

“Is there anyone else here?”

“I don’t know," he answers honestly.

Her hand on him grips tighter, making his breath catch. Byleth’s voice drops to a murmur. “Can you be quiet?”

Raising his eyebrows in challenge at her, he retorts, “Can _you_?” and manoeuvres his own hand down to slip between her folds and tease at her entrance. “You’re already so wet.”

“We’re in a bath.”

Byleth’s almost petulant tone makes him laugh, and Felix slips a finger inside her. Her touch on him goes lax as she starts to grind against his hand. “I don’t think the bath has anything to do with it.”

He’s not sure where these words are coming from, slipping out of his mouth as easily as his fingers are sliding in and out of Byleth. Perhaps that’s just what happens when a very naked and enthusiastic person is draped across you.

Or perhaps it’s something to do with the satisfying feeling of watching her come apart under his hands.

He adds another finger, shifting to better his angle, and begins pumping harder while his thumb seeks out her clit, pressing firm circles into her. Byleth arches back, slamming a hand over her mouth to stifle a moan, and Felix smiles to himself, pleased. He keeps his free hand splayed across her back to steady her, as he leans forward to take a breast onto his mouth, opening wide around a nipple and sucking hard.

Byleth’s nails dig into his shoulder as her hips jerk forward. A whimper escapes even from behind the hand pressed against her mouth. Her skin is flushed and pink, water dripping down her body, and Felix releases her breast to sit back and admire how she looks. He lets his hand slow down, becoming more teasing – too little for her to find her release – and Byleth attempts to grind down harder in response.

The hand falls from her mouth to tangle in his hair.

“Stop teasing me,” she hisses. She pulls his head up to aggressively kiss him, but ends up dropping her head to his shoulder with a groan when he lets his fingers slip from her completely.

Felix is actually intent on something more selfish. Gripping the inside of her thigh, he encourages her to lift up, and angles himself at her entrance, the head of his cock brushing against her and making her shudder. But Byleth needs no further invitation, and sinks down onto him.

They both moan at the sensation as the water sloshes around them.

“You’re being loud,” she says breathlessly, beginning to rock back and forth on him.

Felix’s brows knit together as he tries to form words, too focused on the way her walls are gripping his cock. It feels just as good as it did last night. Fuck, he wants to do this _every_ night.

“You–“ he starts to chastise her but ends up moaning as she clenches around him, squeezing his cock. But he cuts himself off, determined not to make another sound and latches onto her breast again, enjoying the noise Byleth attempts and fails to muffle when he slides his tongue over her nipple.

His hands make their way through the water and down Byleth’s slippery body to take hold of her thighs, helping her lift and ride him while he continues to mouth at her breast. All around them, the water sloshes, as noisy as the sounds Byleth is trying to contain. The heat and humidity of the bathhouse has them both sweating, and the hair he’d pulled up to keep it out of the water is sticking to his face and neck. Byleth is no better and even her usual poise is lost as she slips against the floor of the bath, only Felix’s hands keeping her steady.

One of Byleth’s hands touches where they’re joined briefly, before she starts rubbing her clit. If Felix’s hands weren’t otherwise occupied, he’d be doing it himself. Detaching himself from one breast so he can move to the other, he kisses and bites across the soft skin, pulling Byleth down harder on him. Her free hand slams down hard on the edge of the bath as she tries to keep herself balanced, while a debauched moan spills from her lips.

She comes when Felix bites down hard on her nipple, squeezing his cock as she shudders above him. Felix holds her tight and continues to fuck into her as best he can, given how slippy everything is, letting her breast go so he can look at her face. Her hand is now over her mouth, eyes closed, with a blissed out expression on her face.

The hand drops to his hair again and her head falls forward. When her half opened eyes meet his, she moans his name, long and low and satisfied, and Felix comes with a groan that she quickly leans forward and swallows with a kiss. She keeps moving on top of him, and he can feel every spasm and clench of her around him as he releases into her.

Byleth’s hands work at his hair, soaked from sweat and humidity, and gently ease it out of the tie it’s in, running her fingers through it. Felix sighs, feeling relaxed and sated, turning his head into the crook of her neck and holding her tight to him.

“You were louder,” he eventually murmurs.

He feels Byleth shake against him in a silent laugh. “Only because you cheated.”

“I do not _cheat_.”

She laughs again, a little louder, and he pulls back to look at her face, because he likes to see her smile. “Maybe it’s my own fault,” Byleth says, “for putting these right in front of your face.” She grabs her breasts to make her point and it’s so ridiculous Felix doesn’t feel as much embarrassment as he might have expected from such a comment, especially not when he can tell he’s teasing.

But as he looks, he catches sight of the bite marks he’d left on her, distracting him.

He covers her hands with his own, squeezing gently before pulling them away to inspect the damage. “Did I hurt you?”

“It felt good,” she replies, still flushed and smiling. Brushing his hair out his face, she leans back in to kiss him again, sweetly brushing her lips against his.

“I–“ he starts and then stops. _I love you_ floats at the tip of his tongue, but instead, he says, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Felix stops again, annoyed with himself. “I know I have, when we spar. But I don’t mean that, I mean–“

“I know what you mean,” Byleth says when he stops again, cradling his face. “Don’t worry.”

She may as well have told him not to breathe and clearly the way he’s looking at her conveys his thoughts. And it’s ridiculous – she’s the strongest person he knows. But he can’t help it. And she takes his concern with seriousness. “Felix, I’ll tell you if you do.”

“Alright.” His eyes flick away from her briefly. “Byleth.”

Her face lights up. “Is that the first time you’ve called me that?” Her tone is still teasing and Felix can feel himself reddening.

“Would you prefer I call you _Professor_?” he asks snidely, looking away from her again.

“It seems strange for you to do that. But…” She shifts on top of him, reminding Felix that his now soft cock is still inside her. “You can ask me again when we’re in a less compromising position.”

He slides his hands across her bare, flushed skin. “No,” he eventually decides. “I don’t want to call you that anymore.”

Byleth delicately skims her fingers over his face, making a pleased noise.

“Felix,” she whispers a moment later. “Say my name again.”

The request is so open, not even Felix can miss the longing in it, and he realises that so few people actually call her by her name.

He looks up at her, sitting upright so he can rest his forehead against hers.

“_Byleth_.”

Her response is a smile so wide it makes Felix feel almost overwhelmed. He thinks of what Sylvain had said, about love being painful. And yes, maybe, sometimes it is.

But it’s also _this_ and that makes any pain worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, Claude and Sylvain play intelligent and also sexy strip chess and then they bang. (Don't expect the Claudevain to be big in this, that's a whooooole other wip going on 😭)
> 
> I actually wasn't sure whether to put this as a separate fic or not, because the first chapter really was intended to be a one-shot. But there a couple of more ideas I have for these two that I've been working on between other things, and I do want to explore how Felileth particularly in VW would go (Dimitri I'm so sorry). So I guess it makes the most sense to just continue this, eh. Thank you for reading. <3
> 
> I am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rydiaofmyst)


	3. Chapter 3

Felix is competitive.

This is not news to Byleth, so it’s not surprising for her to learn that he takes that competitiveness with him to bed, where he applies himself to learning her body like he’d learn to use a weapon.

Or like when he’d learned to dance.

Although she will say one thing – Felix is far more enthusiastic learning the ins and outs of her body than he’d ever been about the dancing.

As the weeks go by since the first time they’d tumbled into bed with each other, they begin to spend most of their evenings together, if possible. Felix has even learned how to sleep beside another person, and now there are some mornings when Byleth wakes up first and has to carefully remove herself from his embrace so as not to wake him.

By now, most people seem to know something is going on between them. It's something Byleth has been a little concerned about, considering their positions. She wishes she didn't _have_ to care about something like this. But, at least so far, it hasn't been so bad. People respect Byleth enough not to overtly gossip and it’s helped by the fact that most people remain intimidated by Felix.

Of course, there are exceptions. Claude, Sylvain. Once, they’d been eating dinner together with Hilda and Marianne, and Hilda had spent most of the meal watching them with a crease between her eyebrows like she was trying to solve a difficult puzzle. Eventually she had shaken her head at Byleth and said, “I don’t get it, Professor. _Felix_?”

Felix had scowled at her, unable to speak through a large mouthful of stew, but Marianne had placed a hand on Hilda’s arm and gently told her that she doesn’t have to understand, not when they’re both happy.

And _that_ had softened Felix right up because he likes Marianne, and though Hilda had sighed, she’d also smiled back at Marianne, something warm and longing in her own eyes.

And Byleth has to laugh whenever she thinks of it, because if Hilda is interested in someone like Marianne, she can understand why she’d be baffled about Byleth’s interest in Felix.

And Byleth herself is not an argumentative person, or even an especially competitive one. She’d let herself flow through life at the whims of others – and the argument could be made that she’s still doing that now, but she believes in ending this war and helping Claude achieve his dreams. It’s not the same as before.

But the more time she spends around Felix, the more that changes. At least, with him. And she doesn’t mind. It’s become part of their foreplay by now; sometimes with words, but more often with weapons in the training ground, because really, neither of them are that great with words. But she thinks they’re learning together, when they have quiet nights tangled up on her too small bed, when they talk and share their histories with each other.

She likes how he wants to challenge her as much as he wants to protect her.

She loves him.

So strange to think. Byleth had never expected she’d experience love like this, but she knows what she’s feeling. It’s the only way to describe it that feels right.

She can’t help but wonder what her father would think of it all. Jeralt had always been a little bemused by Felix, who had more than once interrupted them while they were talking with a demand that Byleth train with him. Now that she thinks about it, she’s surprised that he’d never demanded Jeralt train with him either.

“Stop looking so distracted when I’m trying to take your clothes off.” Felix’s disgruntled voice pulls her back to the present.

Ah, yes. Felix’s competitiveness in bed.

Except they’re not actually in a bed. She’s pressed up against the door of the Cardinal’s room and Felix is pawing at her, frustrated by all the layers of clothes she’s wearing.

They’ve been going through a cold snap, with the last few days bringing a bitter, harsh wind through the monastery, along with heavy rainfall. Felix and Sylvain, used to even more bitter Faerghus weather, haven’t seemed to have noticed it, but everyone else is wrapped up warmer than usual, and spending as much time near fires as possible. Claude has been almost hilariously miserable about it. She’d caught Sylvain teasing him, and offering to warm him up. She suspects Claude might have taken him up on that offer.

Byleth blinks at Felix, finding his face suddenly very close to hers. “You’re taking too long,” she says mildly.

He scowls at her, as she’d known he would, and Byleth wonders if this will be the time she manages to get him to actually tear her clothes off. It’s come close a few times, but Felix – as competitive and passionate as he is – is also very considerate. He still frets sometimes about marks he leaves on her when they’re in bed together, even if it’s clear there’s a part of him that’s also pleased about them.

It’s a contrast to the marks he leaves on her when they spar. _Then_, it’s “use them as a reminder to be better and not get distracted.” And then _later_, he’ll gently press his lips to each bruise before he smooths salve over them.

“You could help,” he snaps, pulling her shirt out of her pants and getting annoyed to find another layer under it.

Her lips twitch and she grabs his belt, yanking his hips closer to her. The hands at her clothes fumble when she cups him.

“It’s too cold to take everything off,” she mutters, fondling him through his clothes, pleased as he begins to harden under her and when he begins making gentle thrusts into her touch. “And it’ll take too long. Someone could come back.”

“It’s not that cold,” he counters, voice rough as she continues to touch him.

“Some of us weren’t raised in a snow drift,” she murmurs.

“And _where_, exactly, were you raised, to be like this?” The question is asked breathlessly, likely without any thought, considering his growing arousal, but it makes Byleth pause with the realisation that there’s a lot she hasn’t told Felix.

She can't help but think of her father's diary. It’s sitting in her room, safe and hidden. Claude had solemnly returned it to her not long after their reunion.

Felix notices that she’s distracted and stops fumbling with her clothes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Byleth replies, blinking quickly like it would help the sudden stab of grief. It’s only been months for her – not years – since she lost Jeralt.

His frown tells her he’s not buying that answer, and Byleth – not wanting to ruin the mood – presses her hand against the front of his trousers again, but Felix catches her wrist and pulls it away.

“Never mind that,” he says impatiently. “What’s _wrong_?”

“I know you weren’t being serious,” Byleth says slowly, not meeting Felix’s eyes, “but what you asked made me think of my father.”

He winces slightly, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “I didn’t mean–“

“I know,” she interrupts him. “And I think I was raised all over Fódlan, but there’s a lot I don’t remember. I was born at Garreg Mach, though.”

“I didn’t know that,” Felix murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away from the door and into him.

He didn’t know that because Byleth has never told him. It’s something only Claude – and Rhea, if she still lives – know. And suddenly she wants to tell him. She wants him to know more about her than any other person does.

“Can I–“ she starts haltingly, before her voice becomes stronger. _Silly_, she thinks to herself. This man has kissed every one of her scars, including the one over her heart. She wants to tell him. “Can I tell you about it?”

He blinks, surprised at the request, but nods. “Of course.”

She could just go back to her room and find her father’s diary and hand it to Felix to read. That might be easier. And if he’s interested, she will let him read Jeralt’s words. But Byleth finds she wants to tell him in her own words.

So she does so, quickly and impassively, like the events had happened to someone else. Felix remains silent while she speaks, only his brows furrowing or his lips downturning giving an indication of his thoughts.

When she’s done, Felix presses a hand to her chest, right over her heart, still frowning. He doesn’t seem as appalled about what she’s told him as she’d feared he might be.

“How did I never notice you didn’t have a heartbeat before?”

Despite the serious topic of conversation, Byleth can’t help but laugh quietly. “You’re usually distracted by my breasts.”

Felix narrows his eyes at her. A comment like that a few weeks ago might have made him blush and look away. Now all it gets is a hint of red on his ears as he says, with an endearing dash of humour, “You’ve never complained about that before.”

“No,” she murmurs, but the smile soon fades from her lips. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” Felix asks, genuinely perplexed.

“I don’t have a _heartbeat_, Felix. I don’t know what Rhea did to me. I don’t know if I’m really human–“

He shuts her up with a kiss, sliding his hand into her hair to angle her just as he likes against his lips. Byleth lets him, finding herself pressed between him and the door as she sighs into his mouth, melting against him, happy to let him control the kiss as his tongue slides into her mouth. For a blissful moment, Byleth thinks of nothing but Felix.

It ends too soon, but he doesn’t go too far. His breathing is harsh against her cheek as he says, “Don’t say something so stupid again.”

“Felix–“

“How can you possibly think you’re not human? You’re the most human out of any us.” Byleth disagrees, and is slightly tempted to ask him if he remembers how she was when she first came to the monastery, but Felix is still barreling on, his eyes bright. “You _are_,” he insists. “And I love you.”

The words seem to have stumbled out of his mouth unbidden, judging from the way he lets go of her and takes a step back, eyes widening in horror. Now the blush she’s come to adore colours his cheeks.

She can feel a smile spreading across her own face. “You do?”

Felix crosses his arms and looks away. Byleth wonders if he’d bolt out of the room if she wasn’t leaning against the door, blocking the exit.

“Yes,” he replies, suddenly gruff and clearly embarrassed.

Byleth closes the distance between them, reaching up to cradle his face. Felix, despite still refusing to look at her, drops his arms to rest his hands on her hips.

“Felix.” She waits until his eyes slide back to hers. “I love you, too.”

His fingers tighten on her, blush deepening. But his expression smooths over, a relieved smile playing at his lips. “Oh. Good.”

She smiles and reaches up to kiss him again when a sudden gust of wind rattles the windows, making her shiver.

“It’s really not that cold,” Felix states with raised eyebrows, but he draws her closer into his embrace to keep her warm, anyway.

.

The war goes on, and the Alliance continues to grow in strength. They swap the colds of Garreg Mach for the blazing heat of Ailell, meeting up with reinforcements.

News from Faerghus stops. Felix debates bringing it up at a war meeting, mulling it over. In the end, he decides against it and keeps quiet.

But afterwards, he pulls Sylvain aside. “Have you heard from your father recently?”

“No, but that’s not unusual.” The Margrave is still angry about Sylvain fighting for the Alliance, even now; too short sighted to see the benefits.

“What about Ingrid?”

Sylvain shakes his head. “Honestly? Not for a while. I figured she has a lot going on but would let us know if she needed help.”

“Neither have I,” Felix says. “Something about it is bothering me.” He glances across the room, where Byleth is in deep conversation with Claude and Judith. “If we weren’t leaving for Myrddin so soon, I’d be tempted to take a horse to Fraldarius,” he admits begrudgingly, a large part of him unwilling to admit that he’s worried about his father.

There’s a frown on Sylvain’s face as he thinks about it. “Maybe we can spare a wyvern rider? They could check in Galatea too, and probably be able to catch up with the army before we reach the Bridge.”

Felix nods slowly. That would do, he supposes.

.

The battle at Myrddin is a success, but Felix is irritable. Byleth has gone to Derdriu with Claude for the Roundtable meeting, where they hope to gather allies – and some much needed troops and resources. He knows it’s important, but he misses her.

He hadn’t expected to miss her so much.

And there’s still no news from Faerghus. His request to send a rider had been granted, but they haven’t returned yet.

They should have been back by now.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Alliance army remains stationed on the Bridge while they wait for news, ready to march as soon as their leaders return. The downtime makes Felix antsy, getting into an argument with Lorenz and snapping at Marianne – which leads to Hilda threatening him.

He apologises to Marianne, of course, who accepts it and tells him in a soft voice not to worry, that the Professor will be back soon. His cheeks had burned – partly from shame at how he’d spoken to Marianne, of all people, and partly because he’s so transparent.

In the end, it’s Sylvain who deals with the bulk of his bad mood, who trains more often than usual with him.

Felix has knocked Sylvain on his ass for the third time that day when he snaps, “Are you even _trying_?”

Sylvain groans from where he’s lying on the ground. “Of course I am. Have you ever considered that you’re trying too hard?”

Felix scoffs and steps over to offer him a hand up. “No. That attitude will get you killed, Sylvain.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me that before.” Sylvain accepts the helping hand and hauls himself upright. “Are we done yet?”

“No. Pick up your weapon.”

Sylvain sighs. “The sooner the Professor gets back, the better. At least that way you’re burning up some of this energy with sex.”

Bristling, Felix raises his sword. “Shut up.”

With a laugh, Sylvain stretches slowly, clearly in no rush for another bout.

And Felix, because he’s been keeping his curiosity about it to himself for weeks now, can’t help but blurt out, “Don’t you miss Claude?”

Sylvain freezes, just for a second, before relaxing. “Doesn’t everyone? He’s got quite the presence. And he is our leader.”

The non answer irritates Felix further. “But aren’t you two…” He gestures at Sylvain, sword waving in the air.

“Aren’t we _what_, Felix?” Sylvain asks, sweet as anything as he retrieve his training lance.

He bites out the words. “You said you were in love.”

Sylvain comes at him quickly and without warning, lance slashing wide, making Felix back up to get out of his range and reposition himself. “I said _I_ was in love,” Sylvain says, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I never mentioned anyone else.” He moves quickly, with the strength and precision Felix knows he has but rarely shows outside of a real battle. It forces Felix on the defensive, parrying and dodging Sylvain’s savage strikes.

He’s not sure how to react to what Sylvain has just said. When he’d brought up Claude, he hadn’t expected this response. Sylvain hasn’t even clarified if it’s Claude he has feelings for. But Felix is sure that’s who it is, especially after he’d mentioned it to Byleth she had shrugged and said she’d had her suspicions since they were students.

“Syl–“ A jab to his guts winds him, and he rolls to avoid the next attack, slightly amazed that this is what it’s taken to get Sylvain to take training seriously. Still, Felix is determined to get the upper hand on him.

But he doesn’t get the chance, because a shout from the entrance to the training grounds catches their attention, making them both freeze and turn towards the noise.

It’s Judith, arms folded and eyes hard as she regards both of them. “You two. Come with me.” With that, she turns and leaves, not even checking to see if they’re following.

Felix exchanges a glance with Sylvain, who looks surprised by Judith's curt demand. All the anger and bitterness seems to have drained from him.

“Any idea what she wants?”

“Maybe Byleth and Claude are back?” Felix suggests.

“Maybe,” Sylvain mutters. “Doesn’t explain why Judith would be coming to get us.”

Felix agrees with that, at least. He’s not spoken to Judith much at all, having no need to. But he remains silent as they stack their weapons and leave the training area. Judith is waiting for them impatiently outside and jerks her head in the direction of the meeting rooms they’ve using since they’d taken the Bridge.

Now Felix can see a missive in her hand, and his heart starts thundering, wondering if something has happened to Byleth up in Derdriu.

Judith leads them to a room where Lorenz and Hilda are already waiting, both of them looking serious – Hilda uncharacteristically so. She ushers them in before following and closing the door behind them.

“Now,” Judith begins, voice stern. “You two have been valuable allies to the Alliance and the war effort. So this is not an accusation or an interrogation.”

Baffled, Felix glances sidelong at Sylvain, who looks equally as confused.

Judith continues. “The wyvern sent to Fraldarius and Galatea by your request, Lord Fraldarius, hasn’t returned.” She takes a deep breath as Felix’s mind immediately whirls off into wondering what this could mean. “What’s more, a mysterious army was observed by our scouts early this morning, passing by the Bridge of Myrddin. They did not engage with us and once they realised the Bridge was occupied they kept marching east. We’ve been tracking their movements since.”

“Were they marching under a banner?” Sylvain asks, still obviously wondering what this has to do with him and Felix, specifically.

“Yes,” Judith replies, watching him carefully. “They were marching under the banner of House Blaiddyd.”

Felix feels Sylvain start in surprise beside him, but he can only stare at Judith in disbelief. _Blaiddyd_?

“But…” Sylvain starts. “That’s impossible.”

“We do not know who leads this army, but I assure you, Lord Gautier, it was the Blaiddyd manner they marched under.”

“Dimitri’s dead,” Felix says weakly.

Judith sighs. “As far as we’re aware. No body was ever seen, as you both know. Is there another member of the family it could be? Someone distant?”

Felix swallows, thrown back into his childhood when he’d learned the ancestry of the Blaiddyd’s, knowledge that was the duty of the Fraldarius’s to know.

“Distant. No one called Blaiddyd. Dimitri’s…” he pauses, trying to recall.” Great-great aunt? Sister to the king before Lambert. She had daughters who had daughters. No crests. Some of those and their children may still live.”

“They could have taken the name of their royal grandmother,” Lorenz suggests.

“And, uh, the Regent, he–“

“He sired a bunch of bastards,” Sylvain finishes for him. “Could be one of them. No crests there either, though, so none of them were legitimised.”

“Wow, the Regent sounds just like you, Sylvain.” Hilda’s sweet smile is at odd with her words, making Sylvain narrow his eyes at her. She keeps talking before he can respond. “_Or_ it could just be Dimitri, you know,” Hilda states with a shrug like it’s not a big deal. “It seems the most obvious answer.”

“Or it could be anyone.” Sylvain sounds frustrated. “Just because they’re marching under the Blaiddyd banner doesn’t mean there’s a Blaiddyd there. It’s a symbol that the rebels fighting against the Empire will rally behind.”

Judith nods. “You are correct. Did either of you know about this, or can you tell us anything about it?”

Felix and Sylvain both give a no in response, but Judith is still looking askance at them.

“We didn’t know,” Felix snaps, annoyed at her mistrust. “Neither of us have heard from anyone in Faerghus in well over a month. It’s why I requested sending a wyvern to Fraldarius, to see if my father was still alive.”

She relents with a nod. “Very well. You understand that we–“

“Yeah, yeah,” Sylvain interrupts her, looking sour. “We get it.”

“Sylvain,” Lorenz chides.

Before he can side anything else, Felix address Judith. “Are we done here?”

She sighs. “Yes.”

He’s out the door seconds after she’s spoken, Sylvain quick behind him. But Felix doesn’t stop, intent on marching back to the training grounds and hitting something until he doesn’t have to think about anything.

“Felix!” Sylvain calls after him, jogging to catch up and grabbing his sleeve.

Felix yanks his arm out of Sylvain’s grasp. “What?”

“Do you not want to talk about what this could mean?” Sylvain asks, incredulous.

“No. _No_. It’s not Dimitri. It’s not–“

“What if Ingrid’s in that army?” Sylvain cuts him off, voice low and urgent, aware that Felix’s outburst is gathering attention. “Or your father?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Felix shakes his head. “They’d tell us.”

“Would they?” Sylvain’s voice softens. “We’re fighting for a different country.”

“They’d tell us,” Felix snaps again, anger outweighing his growing uncertainty. He’s done with this pointless conversation, so he turns away and continues on towards the training grounds. He doesn’t ask Sylvain to come with him, and Sylvain doesn’t follow.

.

Later that night, after falling into bed having trained to exhaustion so he wouldn’t have to think, Felix is woken up by a soft body curling around him. Still half asleep, his hands seek out Byleth, delighted to find bare skin.

“When’d you get back?” he mumbles into her hair.

“Just now,” she whispers in response, tucking her head under his chin, quickly pressing a kiss to his neck.

There’s a lot he wants to say to her, but sleep is already creeping back in. “You smell like wyvern.”

He feels her lips curl against him. “I came straight here. I missed you.”

Felix thinks he manages to say the words back to her, but tiredness is pulling him back under, particularly now that Byleth is back with him. The anxiety he’s been carrying since she’d left fades away with her touch.

.

“We’ll be facing both the Empire’s army and the one marching under the Blaiddyd banner at Gronder.” Byleth looks from Felix to Sylvain, a sombre expression on her face. By her side is Claude, equally as serious. “We understand if you’d prefer to be in the reserves–“

“No,” Felix interrupts immediately, decidedly annoyed that she’d even suggest that.

He’s slightly mollified when her eyes cut to Claude and she mutters, “Told you.” Claude just raises a shoulder in response.

“You need us out there. It’s stupid to even ask us that,” Felix continues.

Sylvain crosses his arms. “Yeah, are you afraid we might betray you, or something?”

Felix turns his glare on Sylvain. That _hadn’t_ been a concern of his.

Claude’s gaze on Sylvain is cold. “Not at all,” he says coolly. “Just thought it would be nice to acknowledge how difficult it might be for you both to potentially face people you know.” He smiles widely, but his eyes don’t warm at all.

It’s clear Byleth has no patience for this. “That’s not it and you know it, Sylvain, so save it.” Her piece said, she picks up her papers from the desk and steps around them, striding out the door.

Felix takes one look at the staring match going on between Claude and Sylvain and decides he wants nothing to do with it. So he hurries after Byleth, catching up with her in the hallway outside.

“You know I don’t think that,” he says in a low voice, falling into step with her. “What Sylvain said,” he adds, for clarification.

Byleth stops and turns to him. “I know. I don’t think Sylvain really does either. He’s just being…”

“He’s just being Sylvain,” Felix mutters sourly.

“But Felix, really, what if your father is there? Or Ingrid? The last thing we want is to fight any Kingdom army, but we have to be prepared, especially when they aren’t responding to any requests to talk.” Worry shines in her eyes.

“They won’t be,” he says. It’s clear he’s trying to convince both of them. “They _shouldn’t_ be. So don’t worry.”

“I have to worry.” A crease forms between her brows as she frowns. “I have to keep everyone alive.”

He looks at her in slight disbelief. “We’re at _war_.”

Something like grief crosses her face. “I know, I–“ She pauses, shaking her head. “I have to go, I have a meeting with Seteth.” But she remains standing still, looking like she wants to say more.

“What’s wrong with you?” Felix asks, harsher than he means to, but her demeanour is unsettling him. Byleth is usually so steady and sure.

“It’s nothing.” Before he can reply, Byleth reaches up to brush her lips against his cheek, before turning away, hurrying down the hall to her meeting with Seteth, leaving Felix at a loss.

.

The news arrives from a scout the day before they reach Gronder.

The army marching under the Blaiddyd banner is led by a man thought dead – or, at least, someone who looks very much like a dead prince.

_Dimitri. _

Anything said by the scout after that is lost to Felix. He’s distantly aware of Byleth glancing at him across the table in concern, but that’s all she can do because they’re at a strategy meeting, and everyone is there and–

Felix’s hands clench into fists in his lap.

Is his father with Dimitri?

Stupid question. Of _course_ his father is with Dimitri. And hadn’t bothered to tell him.

Beside him, Sylvain is speaking. Felix doesn’t hear the words.

_How_ is Dimitri alive? How can he also be miraculously alive like Byleth? Why had no one _told him_?

Felix can tell Byleth is still watching him, but he doesn’t look up, and leaves as soon as the meeting is over, refusing to look at or speak to anyone. He knows she’s too busy to follow.

.

He avoids everyone for the rest of the day, meticulously checking over his weapons. He can’t go and train as hard as he’d like, not on the eve of a battle like this. All his strength will be needed tomorrow.

Usually Felix would end up in Byleth’s tent, like he has ever since they’ve been marching. But tonight, he decides to use his own, not ready to talk about the boar.

Byleth hasn’t come to find him since the meeting. While one part of him is relieved, another part of him is childishly bothered. It’s unfair, because he knows she likely hasn’t had a minute to herself all day. He frowns to himself. She probably hasn’t even found the time to eat. Perhaps he should go to her.

Felix considers it for a moment, before deciding against it. She’ll have Claude or Seteth with her, or maybe Leonie or Hilda, or _someone_. They’ll make sure she’s alright.

He rolls over in his bedroll in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Outside, the noise of the camp quiets as the night draws on, but Felix can’t find sleep, not when inside him is a whirlwind of anger and grief, his thoughts swirling between Byleth and whoever it is they’re going to face across the battlefield in the morning.

.

Their orders are clear – do not engage with Dimitri’s army unless provoked. Edelgard herself is leading the Imperial army, and she is the bigger target.

But Felix can’t stop thinking about Dimitri, and how he’d been the last time he’d seen him, five years ago. The mask of the perfect prince had fallen and shattered by then, just as surely as Edelgard’s Flame Emperor mask had. Dimitri had been ranting and furious and swearing he was going to kill her; raving like the beast he was, now on show for all to see.

They had left him with Dedue, as they hurried back to their own territories to prepare for war, thinking he’d be safe in Fhirdiad while they gathered their strength.

And then he had been captured and killed – and Dedue too – and that… that had been that. They had mourned. Felix’s father had risked going to Fhirdiad multiple times to find the boar’s body.

He’d stopped only when he returned with Areadbhar, the Blaiddyd’s hero relic.

Felix’s blood runs cold at that thought. If Dimitri has Areadbhar, that should tell him if his father is here. And if Dimitri has Areadbhar, and is as bad as he was five years ago, then he won’t just be a beast cleaving through the battlefield.

He’ll be a monster.

.

Gronder quickly turns to chaos. The three armies clash on a field filled with fire and fog.

The Kingdom army seems to be attacking indiscriminately, uncaring whether it’s Alliance or Empire they’re bringing down. Despite their orders not to engage, they have to fight back and defend themselves.

Felix feels sick as he cuts down a solider wearing Blaiddyd blue that had thought to challenge him.

_This is senseless._

Above him, some of the Alliance wyverns are fighting against some Kingdom pegasus.

The thought of Ingrid being up there, falling to Hilda’s axe or Claude’s bow, makes Felix – for the first time since he’d seen the boar emerge from Dimitri at the western rebellion all those years ago – throw up on the battle field.

.

Areadbhar glows, easy to spot at a distance. It’s heading west in the direction of the bulk of the Empire army.

Felix cuts a path towards it, separating himself from the rest of the army. He thinks he hears Byleth call his name over the cacophony of fighting, but he doesn’t turn back.

He finds Dimitri alone – too alone for a king to be. Felix watches as he pulls Areadbhar from the mangled corpse of what was once an Empire solider, taking in how much Dimitri has changed since the last time he’d seen him.

Different, but still obviously Dimitri. Just more clearly a beast, now, Felix thinks sourly.

Dimitri turns to face him, weapon raising, but he pauses, one blue eye widening when he sees Felix.

“Glenn?”

The air is punched out of Felix’s lungs in shock. “No,” he struggles to say, taking a deep breath as anger coats over his surprise. “It’s me, you _boar_.”

Dimitri glances to his side, head cocked like he’s listening to something. “No,” he finally says, voice like gravel. “Felix.” His eye narrows now, suspicious, and Areadbhar raises again. Dimitri’s threat is clear. “Stay out of my way.”

Felix steps forward, his own sword rising. _So this is how it will be_.

He has already mourned Dimitri twice. The first after the rebellion in which he’d seen Dimitri gleefully massacre his enemies, the second after his supposed death in Fhirdiad.

How many times must he mourn this man?

“Dimitri!” Byleth arrives, out of breath, and steps slightly in front of Felix, putting herself before Dimitri’s lance. She lowers the Sword of the Creator, but Felix can see she’s still tightly coiled and ready to unleash it if necessary. “Stop!”

“Traitor,” Dimitri spits, eye still focused on Felix.

“Where have you been?” Felix yells. “We looked for you!”

“Did you?” Dimitri sneers. “A wasted effort.” He takes a threatening step forward, and Byleth takes a large step back, shoving Felix back with her, leaving herself at a disadvantage by taking one of his arms in a vice grip.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses in her ear, completely confused by her actions, trying to shake himself free of her grasp. He only succeeds when the power of his crest inadvertently flares, lending him strength, and he pulls himself free.

But Dimitri has already turned away from them. To Felix, he looks like a predator that has scented blood. And perhaps that’s exactly what it is, because he can see that it’s the banner of the Empire, as red as the blood that’s been spilled on this field, flapping in the wind, that has caught Dimitri’s attention.

Felix isn’t about to let him get away. He needs answers. He needs something more than being called his dead brother’s name. But Byleth grabs him again, this time dropping her own sword completely to use both arms to pull him back.

“What are you doing? Pick up your sword.” He tries in vain to pull away. “Let go!” He doesn’t want to yell at her, he really doesn’t, but Dimitri is walking away from them, like he’s completely forgotten Felix was ever there in the first place, and he can’t help but shout. He can’t understand what Byleth is playing at, why she’s even here at all, separated from her own battalion.

“No!” It’s only the completely panicked tone in Byleth’s voice that stops him struggling. Felix drops his gaze from Dimitri’s retreating back to her face, unable to figure out why she looks and sounds so distressed. He’s never seen her like this before.

Beyond them, there’s a roar from Dimitri and the sound of his lance cutting through flesh. Felix tenses, needing to do something.

But Byleth holds firm. “_No_, Felix. He kills you.”

“What?” Felix glances over to see Dimitri slicing through the Imperial soldiers with a sickening ferociousness. “He–“

“He kills you.” Byleth says again, not taking her eyes off Felix’s face. He feels the press of her fingers against his wrist, bruisingly tight. “Please,” she pleads, “stay away from him.”

“I can handle the boar,” he responds, angrily.

“No, you can’t, Felix, I can’t– I can’t watch you–” Her eyes finally leave his face, and she takes a deep breath, attempting to get herself under control. As she scans their surroundings, something seems to get her attention, distracting her. “Dedue.”

Felix whips his head back around, only marginally surprised to see that Dedue is also still alive, having taken up a spot on Dimitri’s blind side.

He wants to retort that he’ll take them both down if necessary, but he can’t, because not only is he not entirely sure of that, but also because when he looks back into Byleth’s eyes he can see real fear there.

More Imperial soldiers arrive. Most of them flock to Dimitri, attempting to taken him down with sheer numbers, but a few of them split off to target Felix and Byleth.

There’s no more time for talking, and Byleth knows it too. In a flash she lets go of him and retrieves her sword, and they both fall back into their well established pattern of fighting together, trying to survive.

For now, there’s not time to even think about what’s just happened.

.

They lose sight of Dimitri in the mess of fighting. Felix even gets separated from Byleth after they return to the bulk of the army and her to her battalion.

Edelgard is in the west, the direction Dimitri had gone in. It’s clear as they move that he’s decimated huge numbers of the Imperial army.

Felix isn’t that far away when Claude and Byleth face off against Edelgard and Hubert, and as he sees the Emperor and her retainer warp away, he’s left wondering if Dimitri’s body is among the pile of corpses surrounding them.

.

It is.

.

The straggling remains of Dimitri’s army includes his father. Felix isn’t surprised, not after seeing Dimitri with his family’s relic.

While there’s a flicker of relief inside him that his father is alive, when Felix catches sight of Rodrigue speaking to Claude, he turns away before he can be seen, disappearing into a cluster of Alliance soldiers. He makes his way through them all, in the direction he’d seen that Kingdom knight – Gilbert – coming from.

They’d buried Dimitri, is what Felix has heard. Carried his body from the battlefield, and with help from some of the soldiers had dug a hole and dumped the body of the king of Faerghus in it.

Felix has no idea what happened to Dedue.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the grave. There are some soldiers there, paying respects, who glance up at Felix’s approach.

He glares at them, ready to tell them to move, until one of them mutters _Fraldarius_ before they slink away.

Except now he’s left alone at a grave and he doesn’t know why he’s even there. What had been the _point_ of this senseless battle?

When he hears approaching footsteps, Felix tenses, turning to bark at whoever it is to leave him alone. But it’s Byleth, looking worn and tired, so he just drops his shoulders and turns back towards the pile of earth marking Dimitri’s resting place.

“Do you want me to leave?” Byleth asks quietly, uncertainty in her voice, and Felix squeezes his eyes shut.

_Yes_.

_No_.

When he doesn’t reply, Byleth says nothing else, only turning on her heel to leave. Looking up, Felix feels a pang of panic at the sight of her retreating back.

“Wait,” he calls out, voice rough. She pauses, glancing back. Clearing his throat, Felix looks away. “Stay.”

Byleth stays silent as she returns, and this time steps up beside him, her arm brushing his. For a few long moments that silence hangs between and finally Felix has to talk. He has to say _something_.

“Ever since I was young, I knew my duty. The Fraldarius family serve as the shield to the crown.”

He sees Byleth’s head turn towards him, obviously paying attention, but she remains silent. He doesn’t even know why he’s telling her this.

“I failed.” He glares down at the grave. “I _left_.”

“And I… and I–“ To his annoyance, Felix finds himself blinking away tears. Why does this matter? He’d already thought the boar was dead.

_Why does he care?_

Byleth touches his arm gently, and for a wild moment Felix doesn’t know whether to push her away or let her comfort him.

He hates this.

“I thought you were dead,” he says, somewhat desperately. “And I thought Dimitri was dead. And I–“ He stops again, not even able to articulate how he’s feeling because he doesn’t _know_.

He didn’t want to be the boar’s shield. He didn’t want anything to do with that bloodthirsty beast.

But he didn’t want Dimitri dead. Dead because of his own desperate need for revenge, unable to fall back even when he had no chance of winning.

Dimitri had chased after Edelgard, futile, desperate.

“He called me _Glenn_,” Felix whispers, still unable to take his eyes off the grave. Byleth curls her free hand round one of his clenched fists, and Felix finds that there’s some comfort in her touch, at least.

“His Highness was haunted by the ghosts of those who died at Duscur,” a new voice near them speaks, soft but clear, and Felix jerks in surprise, and finally looks away from the grave to the newcomer.

It’s Ingrid. Her own eyes are filled with tears.

“We used to hear him speaking to them, begging for forgiveness one second.” Felix stares at the pain shifting across her face. “And then in the next, he’d be promising to take Edelgard’s head. He blamed her for everything. We all swore to follow him, but…” Ingrid seems unable to say anything else.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Felix asks, glad to see her alive, but equally as frustrated that it has to be like this. “We could have helped.”

“He ordered us not to. He didn’t trust Claude, and he felt betrayed that you and Sylvain were with the Alliance. I don’t think he really trusted any of us, but he… he was using us. He wasn’t the Dimitri we knew.” Felix opens his mouth to say something and she shakes her head, voice sharpening. “I know what you’re going to say but he wasn’t like this five years ago.”

“No,” Felix says, somewhat coldly. “I think this is exactly who he was five years ago. The only difference is that he stopped hiding it. And you all just followed him blindly.”

Ingrid’s lips thin. “I swore to serve him. And you – you of all people should understand what that means. You should have been with us, both you and Sylvain. It might have changed things.”

Felix shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t. You followed nothing more than a beast. Dimitri died a long time ago.”

Ingrid looks distraught. “How can you be so cold?”

Felix rears back, bearing his teeth. “How can you be so foolish? This is where your knightly ideals have gotten you! Following a madman. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

“You don’t understand–“

Felix marches towards her, and Byleth lets go of his arm. She’s remained silent throughout all this, obviously not wanting to insert herself in the middle of an old, complicated friendship.

“I understand that when the boar told you all to attack the Alliance, you went along with it. There was no reason to fight against Claude. Dimitri _knew_ Sylvain and I were here. You all did! And you all just followed him like dogs.”

Turning away from Ingrid’s stricken face, Felix marches back towards Byleth, grabbing her hand as he passes her and continuing to walk away, tugging her along with him.

“Felix.” Ingrid sounds distraught.

But it’s not enough for Felix to face her again. He pauses, turning his head just slightly. “Go home, Ingrid. Take the others back to Faerghus and help the people there while we win this war.”

With that, he takes off again. Byleth glances back towards Ingrid, standing alone by Dimitri’s grave, but she has no words for the other woman. She doesn’t even know how she’s going to find any for Felix.

.

Felix keeps marching them until they’re well away from the army, and doesn’t stop until they enter a small forest. Byleth remains on alert, just in case of any straggling enemy soliders, but all seems quiet. This little forest looks like it was untouched by the battle. There is grass underfoot rather than mud, and the air is fresh.

Satisfied they’re alone, Byleth turns back to Felix. He’s pacing, fists clenching, a furious look on his face.

“Felix.”

He stops to look at her. No, glare at her, but Byleth stares back steadily. She thinks to expect a biting comment – about Dimitri, Ingrid, her, who knows. Or he’ll want to do something physical to work through his pain – either a spar or sex or both. That’s what she thinks will happen, and she can give him that, at least.

But instead Felix’s face crumples as he looks at her.

He appears completely lost.

So Byleth steps forward, reaching her arms to wrap around his shoulders, and Felix leans into her, pressing his face into her neck as best he can considering they’re still wearing armour. He holds her tight to him, and while he’s quiet about it with only the occasional sniffle and ragged breath, Byleth can feel his tears against her skin.

She wishes she could take his pain away.

Instead, all she can do is play with the hair at the nape of his neck in that way she knows he likes. She hums softly as she holds him, an old tune half remembered from her childhood passing through taverns and towns, that even sometimes Jeralt would hum as he cleaned his weapons.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, gently swaying together. It’s long enough that darkness begins to creep in, and she can feel the fatigue from the long hours of fighting settle into her bones. But she doesn’t stir or rush him, and eventually Felix raises his head, but he immediately steps out of her arms and turns away, wiping at his eyes.

Byleth knows better than to ask if he’s okay, or something else equally inane. Felix won’t appreciate it and the answer is screamingly clear.

Instead, he bites out, voice rough and completely bitter, “I’m sure my father’s devastated that he’s lost his other favourite son.”

She hasn’t spoken to Rodrigue Fraldarius yet. The last time she'd met the man had been when she'd still been a Professor. But she had seen Claude talking to him earlier, as the Alliance and now leaderless Kingdom came to some kind of terms. In truth, she should probably be present for that, but after what she’d seen during the battle…

The divine pulse might let her turn back back time, but it can’t erase what she’s seen. It leaves her the only one to remember, and for the rest of her life she fears that every time she closes her eyes, she’ll see Felix being impaled on Dimitri’s lance. And after, the way Dimitri had carelessly used his boot to push Felix off his lance to the ground. And then, the twisted look of horror and pain on Felix’s face as he died on the cold ground at Gronder, his last sight that of Dimitri walking away, not caring that he’d just killed one of his childhood friends.

She’d seen it happen more than once, twisting back the hands of time again and again to get there in time, and get Felix out of Dimitri’s range. For a second, she had thought Dimitri was going to run both of them through, but in the end, all it had taken was the banners of the Empire to distract him away from them and back to his true goal.

And now he’s dead. It’s hard for her to care too much about that, personally, after seeing what he did to Felix, no matter how much she tried to plead or Felix tried to talk to him.

But Felix’s grief pulls at her, and she wishes she could help.

“Your father was speaking to Claude when I left. Do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” Felix answers immediately. He still has his back to her. “You go, if you want.”

She doesn’t let his biting tone get to her. Instead, she circles around him so she can face him again. “I want to stay with you.” Felix’s eyes flicker up to hers briefly, red and angry. “If that’s what you want,” she adds, just in case.

He gives a jerky nod in reply, and that’s enough for Byleth. Taking his hand, she leads him over to one of the large trees and encourages him to sit at the base of it, his back leaning against the wide trunk. He does so, unusually pliant, and she follows suit, sitting down and settling herself against him as comfortable as she can in her armour. She tucks her head into his neck, sighing when his arms wrap around her.

They’re in desperate need of a bath – both of them are covered in blood and mud, and stink of smoke and sweat. The battle clings to them. Death clings to them. And she’s so exhausted. She’s never used the divine pulse so often in one battle.

But she’d do it all again if she had to, if it meant keeping Felix alive.

After a moment, one of Felix’s hands come up to tangle in her hair, tucking her more firmly against him, his cheek pressing against the top of her head as he curls himself into her. Byleth can feel his heart beating steady against her and despite knowing what responsibilities she has elsewhere, in that moment, there’s nowhere else she’d rather be but with Felix under this tree with the clear night sky above.

She just wishes they were there for a happier reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently it takes me roughly three months to update this fic. Sorry. 😬
> 
> Also sorry to Dimitri. 😬😬 Next chapter will be happier. (But not for Dimitri, I guess.)
> 
> I am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rydiaofmyst), hi.


	4. Chapter 4

When Byleth closes her eyes, she sees Felix die. She sees each iteration of his death play out behind her eyelids; each one that she stopped. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy, even with him beside her, very much alive. It’s even worse on the nights he isn’t with her, either unable to sleep himself or unable to bear being around anyone. 

Felix’s grief for Dimitri is often silent, and when it isn’t, it’s sharp and biting; directed more often at Sylvain than anyone else – the one other person also personally grieving for Dimitri too. Byleth doesn’t know what to say to help, even though she knows from experience that words mean little in the face of grief. 

The nights he does spend with her as they continue their march to Merceus and then Enbarr, he presses himself into her, his hands clutching hers tight, seeking comfort he’ll never ask for or admit he wants. 

He doesn’t cry again.

The days are spent marching or fighting and Byleth briefly fears he’ll do something reckless. It’s only when he complains to her of _Sylvain_ being rash on the battlefield that she realises in that, at least, she doesn’t have to worry. 

But she’s concerned for Sylvain. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Felix has become distracted, pulling at her clothes, clearly intent on getting her out of them and into their bedroll. With an army camped all around them, they’ve both had to learn how to be silent when they lay together, and it’s often furtive, quick. Sometimes desperate, like it had been after Merceus, when terrifying weapons had fallen from the sky and destroyed the fort and they’d barely escaped.

He has her topless, his hands on her breasts when he seems to remember she’d said something. “What?”

“Sylvain.” She brushes a thumb across his cheek, not liking the dark shadows under his eyes. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

His hands immediately drop from her with a grunt, like he doesn’t like to talk of Sylvain when he’s touching her like this. 

“No,” he responds shortly. “I told him he was being an idiot. It’s bad enough that–“ He stops abruptly, and his eyes dart away from her.

“What?” Byleth steps closer, curling her arms around him. For a minute it looks like he might break out of her hold, but then he sighs.

“Bad enough that the boar died,” Felix mutters, still not looking at her. “Stupid to die for someone that’s already dead.”

She nods in agreement at that, relieved he thinks so, even though she knows it’s not that simple. If she had died while chasing down Kronya, in that moment she wouldn’t have cared so long as she brought down the person that killed her father.

With a sigh, Byleth reaches up to undo his hair. It always feels so soft, and she loves running her fingers through it. 

And even though he’s never admitted it, Felix seems to enjoy it too. He drops his head into the crook of her neck, his hands exploring the bare skin of her back.

“Are you injured?” he mumbles into her neck. 

They so often fight side by side, but today they’d been separated for much of the battle.

“Marianne healed me.” 

The response has him digging his hands briefly into her hips, no doubt not liking that she’d been hurt and he hadn’t been there.

“I’m fine,” Byleth adds. And then, to distract him again, she says, “Take off your armour, it’s poking me.” 

It works enough, because his head raises and despite how tired he looks, there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, and that’s enough for now.

.

It’s not until after Edelgard’s death, when they’ve returned to the monastery to prepare to march on Shambhala does Felix speak again about Dimitri. 

Being back at the monastery means being back at the training grounds and, like so often in the past, it’s late and she and Felix are the last two there. He’d been pushing hard, with a controlled kind of desperation in his strikes, and in the end, he’d notched another win against her. But he hardly seemed to notice. 

It’s only now, when they’re both tired and sweaty with aching limbs, does he seem able to talk more, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them in since Gronder.

“I couldn't fathom the depth of his hatred for the Empire.” Felix is turned away from her, not looking her in the eye. “So much anguish. Could I have saved him? Could I have stopped him?” His hand is clenched around the hilt of his training sword, knuckles white.

Byleth knows the answers to both those questions is _no_, but it sticks in her throat because then she’ll have to explain how she’s so certain. She and Felix have shared so much, but she’s not mentioned her ability to turn back time, and now… now she doesn’t know how, not when he’s wrapped up in grief and guilt. 

Gently, she reaches out and takes the sword out of his hand. He startles at the soft touch and then lets go, watching silently as Byleth puts the swords away. 

“You couldn’t have saved him,” she tells him as she returns to his side, reaching up to touch his face.

But Felix steps back, shaking his head, obviously not wanting to be touched. “How do you know that, Byleth?” His voice is low and pained. “You’re the one that held me back from him.”

“Because he– he would have killed you.” It flashes before her again, the sight of Dimitri killing him, making her stomach roll with nausea. 

He shakes his head again, frustrated. “If you had let me–“

“No!” She interrupts him, and cringes at how loud her voice is. Lowering it, she continues, “Felix, I couldn’t let you die.”

“Why are you so certain he would have killed me?” Felix demands, eyes flashing in anger.

There’s a part of Byleth, a part that’s exhausted and sick of death and war, that wants to laugh. It’s Felix who insisted, even back when he’d been a student, that Dimitri was some kind of irredeemable monster. 

“I– just–“ The words that she needs don’t come, and Byleth falls silent.

Felix stares at her, impatient. “That’s it? You have nothing to say?”

He had accepted the fact that she has no heartbeat easily. He’d kissed away her doubts about herself. But can he forgive this, if she tells him? For completely destroying his memories of Dimitri, knowing that his childhood friend would have killed him without a second thought? For not doing more to save him, to save everyone?

She doesn’t want him to carry the burden of the divine pulse, too.

So while it’s not that she has nothing to say, she still says nothing, hating how helpless she feels. 

And Felix’s shoulders hunch up, tense, before he scoffs and walks out of the training grounds, leaving Byleth feeling very alone.

.

“Felix? What are you doing?”

Sylvain’s voice jerks Felix out of the reverie he’d fallen into, and he’s immediately annoyed at himself for being taken unawares. He turns away from where he’d been standing in the entrance to what had once been Dimitri’s room, finding Sylvain watching him with a careful expression.

“Nothing.” He glances back at the empty room. Dimitri hadn’t been the last person to sleep in there. That had been Sylvain. “Where have you been sleeping?”

An insincere smile crosses Sylvain’s face. “Wherever I can find an ample bosom to rest my weary head.”

Irritation flashes through Felix, not in the mood for Sylvain’s bullshit. He scoffs. “I’m sure Claude will be pleased to hear you talk about him like that.” 

Sylvain is still smiling, but it’s ice cold. “I see having your own ample bosom to sleep on hasn’t made you any less grouchy.” 

Closing the door to Dimitri’s old room, Felix turns towards Sylvain with a glare. “I’ve told you not to talk about Byleth like that.” 

“Why not, Felix?” There’s a taunting edge in Sylvain’s voice. “It’s a great bosom. I’m here because of it. I know that’s why you’re here, too.”

Bristling, Felix steps forward, hands balling into fists at his side. But before he can say anything, a voice behind them catches his attention.

“Sylvain.” It’s Claude, with a dark expression on his face. 

Sylvain turns, now caught between an angry Felix and a disapproving Claude. “Oh, come on,” he snaps, throwing up his hands. 

Claude folds his arms. “Don’t talk about Teach like that. And there’s nothing keeping you here. You can leave any time you want.” 

Felix’s eyes widen at the cold tone of Claude’s voice, and he can see Sylvain stiffen too, before his shoulders sag. “Alright, look, I’m sorry.” He turns back to Felix. “The Professor’s great and I’m really happy for you and all that. I didn’t mean…” He trails off and gestures vaguely.

He grunts. “Don’t talk about her like that again, Sylvain. I mean it.”

Sylvain sighs. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I get it. I am sorry.” He sounds genuine. And he looks tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping.

Felix can relate.

He catches Claude’s eyes, uncomfortable and still annoyed about _everything_. Claude’s face is unreadable, so he huffs and transfers his glare back to Sylvain. “You can make it up to me by training with me.”

Sylvain looks dismayed. “…Now?”

“Yes, now. Do you have anything better to do?”

Glancing back at Claude, a sly look crosses Sylvain’s face. “Well…”

“If you say Claude, I will hurt you,” Felix threatens. 

“Wow, really? No fun allowed, I see.” At Felix’s narrowed eyes, Sylvain relents. “Alright, let’s go.”

“You go ahead, Sylvain,” Claude interjects. “I want to talk to Felix.”

Sylvain doesn’t object to that, but he does throw a calculating look at Claude as he saunters down the hallway.

“Well?” Felix asks sharply when Claude remains silent. 

For another moment Claude keep staring at him, making Felix more irritated. But eventually he says, “I just wanted to thank you.”

Perplexed, Felix frowns. “For what?”

“For sticking with me. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It wasn’t for _you_–“

“It was for Teach,” Claude interrupts. “Yeah, I know. Still amounts to the same thing though, doesn’t it?”

With a put upon sigh, Felix cuts his eyes to Claude. “Is that it?”

Another moment of silence as Claude contemplates him. “I’m sorry,” he eventually says. “About Dimitri. I wish we could have saved him.”

“There was no saving him,” the words tumble forth from Felix automatically even though he’s been torturing himself since Gronder with thoughts of _but what if he could have saved him_? “He was a beast.” 

Claude looks like he wants to disagree, but all he says is, “I’m still sorry. I’m glad Ingrid is okay, and your father.” 

The mention of his father does nothing to improve Felix’s mood. He’d arrived back at Garreg Mach to several letters from Rodrigue, none of which he’s opened yet. 

“Do you have a point to all this?” Felix asks crossly, and Claude sighs. 

“Look, I’m just worried about you.”

“Why?”

“_Why_? Why are you so suspicious of me? I’m worried because Teach is worried, and she’s…” Claude trails off, and something in his tone makes Felix bristle, and while there is still a tiny flicker of jealousy about Byleth’s close relationship with Claude, his anger is mostly turned inwards because Felix knows he needs to apologise to Byleth. It’s been a day since he’d stormed off on her in the training grounds and he hasn’t seen her since. He misses her, and the longer this goes on, the more guilty he feels.

“She’s _what_?”

“She’s my best friend,” Claude says with a shrug. “But don’t tell Hilda I said that, alright?” 

“Did Byleth say something?” Felix asks, begrudgingly, wondering if she’d mentioned their argument – could it be called that? – to Claude.

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Anyway.” Claude straightens up. “I just wanted to say thanks. Try not to beat Sylvain up too much, would you?”

With that, Claude disappears into his room, the door closing shut with a snap, leaving Felix staring at the empty hallway, lost in thought.

After a few minutes he rouses himself and slowly makes his way towards the training grounds, where Sylvain is waiting.

.

Byleth is there too, training with Leonie. She’s swapped her usual sword for a training lance and the two of them have obviously been going at it for some time.

Felix lingers by the entrance for a moment, watching. Byleth hasn’t noticed him, too focused on blocking Leonie’s powerful strikes, and he can see that she’s enjoying herself. Despite the exertion, she looks the lightest he’s seen her since… 

… since when?

Before Gronder at least. Before Myrddin, or even Ailell. Since maybe those first few exhilarating weeks they’d been together, before the war had really ground them down.

He frowns.

They still have more battles ahead of them. Those strange adversaries who destroyed Merceus and been named Those Who Slither in the Dark. No one knows what to expect when they march on their location in Shambhala. Defeating Edelgard hasn’t ended the war. 

And everyone, even Claude, even Felix himself, has relied on Byleth to get them through it. Who has she relied on?

He thinks about how uncharacteristically panicked she’d been at Gronder. It’s the first time he’d ever seen her scared. But it hadn’t been fear of Dimitri, not directly. Fear of what he would do.

“_He kills you_,” she had said. 

Felix’s frown deepens.

Sylvain approaches him carefully. “Felix, you’re glaring.”

“I’m not,” he replies, narrowing his eyes at his friend, suddenly feeling restless. A shout of glee brings his attention back to Leonie and Byleth’s match and he realises that Leonie has won this bout and is extending a hand to help Byleth up from the ground.

It makes him think back to the first time they’d kissed, right here, and he wishes briefly they could go back to that, when things had somehow seemed simpler. 

But only briefly, because Felix doesn’t want to live in the past. 

He watches Byleth smile at Leonie, no doubt congratulating her.

He continues to watch her as her gaze moves across the training grounds and how her smile slips from her face when she sees him. 

And Felix decides that is entirely unacceptable. 

“Can we do this another time?” he asks Sylvain, still looking at Byleth, who has turned her attention back to Leonie. 

Sylvain laughs, a little unsure. “I didn’t want to do this at all, so yeah, Felix, that’s fine. But it’s not like you to turn down a training session. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he replies, impatient to speak to Byleth. But when he glances at Sylvain, he can see that he does look concerned and he supposes it is strange for him to decline to spar. So he relents slightly. “I need to talk to Byleth.”

“Everything okay with you two?” Sylvain asks, shrewdly enough.

“I’m not sure,” Felix admits, wondering if he should say more. “She held me back, at Gronder,” he finally says, rushing out the words. “When we faced Dimitri.”

Sylvain sighs and rubs an eye with the heel of his palm. “Then she probably kept you alive, Felix. His Highness was…” He stops and trails off, swallowing heavily, and Felix can see the grief etched across his face. Sylvain’s voice turns bitter. “He was everything you said he was, wasn’t he?” 

Felix takes absolutely no solace in that. It just digs his guilt in deeper, although Sylvain probably doesn’t realise that. 

He wishes he’d been wrong.

He wishes he’d done something else. _Anything_ else.

“Byleth says Dimitri kills me,” he tells Sylvain.

Sylvain is watching Leonie and Byleth chat. He shrugs. “She’s right. He would have.” He says it with such certainty, and clear anger. But then he sighs and the anger disappears, and Sylvain just looks tired. “We lost Dimitri a long time ago. Whoever he was by the time we saw him at Gronder, he wasn’t the friend we knew. He wasn’t Dima anymore.” He takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “I miss him, Felix.”

_Dima_. None of them had called Dimitri that since long before they’d ever entered the Officer’s Academy.

Felix blinks away the burning at the back of his eyes. “Yeah,” he responds, voice thick. “I miss him, too.” It feels good to admit that, at least.

“We should visit Ingrid, when we can,” Sylvain murmurs, and Felix nods in reply, remembering the way he’d left Ingrid standing by Dimitri’s grave. Hopefully whenever they do speak next, she’ll have some answers for them about what exactly had happened to Dimitri in the last five years. 

“But for now,” Sylvain goes on, “you should talk to Byleth. I need to speak to Claude, anyway.”

Felix eyes him speculatively. He still doesn’t really know what’s going on with Claude and Sylvain, but things have definitely been chilly between them for a while. “How is… that?”

Sylvain shrugs. “Oh, you know.”

Felix very much _doesn’t_ know, but he can see Sylvain’s mask falling over his face, which suggests to him that that answer isn’t good.

But he doesn’t get a chance to say anything else, because Leonie and Byleth have clearly finished up and are making their way towards the entrance. 

Leonie greets them both, while Byleth remains silent, watching Felix.

“Can we talk?” he asks, meeting her gaze and interrupting Sylvain’s hello in response. 

There’s a pause. “You aren’t here to train?” Byleth speaks mildly but she’s watching him carefully. 

“We were,” Sylvain interjects, “but Felix has finally found something more important than that.”

Leonie covers a smile with a hand. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she says dryly. 

Felix glances over, finding too smug redheads looking back at him. He sighs, deciding to ignore them. They’re unimportant right now. Turning back to Byleth, he raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

She nods, face blank, and says goodnight to the other two before slipping past them and out into the courtyard beyond. 

Felix follows, stopping when she does. 

“Do you want to go to your room?” 

It’s where they usually end up, but Byleth shakes her head. “Marianne told me it would be okay for me to take some of the flowers from the greenhouse.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. “What do you want flowers for?” Maybe it’s someone’s birthday.

Byleth begins walking, setting her usual quick pace. “I want to put some on my parent’s grave. I haven’t had a chance to visit in a while, with… everything.” She raises a shoulder in a half shrug.

“Oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that, and it makes him a little uncertain. Perhaps she wants to be alone. “Do you want me to come with you?”

They’re by the dormitories now. Byleth pauses, looking in the direction of the greenhouse. “If you want. If not, you can wait in my room. I’ll try to be quick.” 

Something about her is bothering him. He thinks it’s because she won’t look at him. “No,” he says, brusque, before he softens his tone. “I’d like to come with you.”

Byleth does glance at him then, a small smile briefly appearing on her face, and Felix realises that she does want him with her. It’s enough to make him relax slightly, and move closer so that when they start walking again, their arms brush together. 

They walk in silence to the greenhouse, and when they get there, Felix is a little annoyed to see they aren’t alone. Manuela is there, taking careful clippings from a plant. 

She looks up in surprise when they enter. 

“Byleth, Felix,” she exclaims, straightening up and brushing off her dress. “I’m surprised to see you both here so late.” She eyes them both with a sly smile. “Are you here for more contraceptives?”

Felix feels himself flush, but Byleth looks unimpressed. “No. Marianne mentioned I could take some flowers to my parent’s grave.”

Manuela looks a little chagrined at that. “Oh, of course! She did mention it.”

Byleth moves further into the greenhouse, but Felix stays by the entrance, half listening to the conversation going on between the two women – if it could be called such, because Byleth is saying little in response to Manuela, and it’s not long before they leave, walking by the lake and the market before turning up the path in the direction of the graveyard.

Byleth is still quiet, her attention mostly focused on the bouquet of colourful flowers that she’s holding.

Felix finds he needs to fill the silence. “They’re pretty,” he says, somewhat inanely.

But Byleth nods in agreement. “They are. Manuela said they were called gladiolus, but my father always called them sword lilies.” 

“Huh.” Felix looks again at the flowers, noticing the shape of the leaves. “I see why. I like them.”

“One of their meanings is strength,” Byleth goes on. “Marianne said they aren’t usually flowers that get put on a grave, but I thought…” Her gaze goes distant. “I thought my father might like them.”

Felix hadn’t known Jeralt well at all – the Captain of the Knights of Seiros wasn’t someone he had any reason to be around, back when he’d been a student. But he’s certain of his words when he tells her, “I’m sure he would, Byleth.”

.

Felix plans to give Byleth her space at the graveyard, but when he lingers near the edge of the graveyard, she turns with a frown and grabs his arm, walking them over to her parent’s grave and laying the flowers carefully across it. She sits down in front of the grave, crossing her legs, and after a moment of hesitation, Felix follows, settling beside her. 

_Jeralt and Sitri Eisner._

His eyes trace over the names on the grave as they sit in silence. But after a moment, Byleth shifts, restless.

“I never know whether I’m supposed to say something or not.” She glances at him. “It’s not like they can hear me.”

Felix agrees with her on that. “I think it makes some people feel better. My mother is buried not far from Fraldarius castle. My father used to go to her grave to speak to her. Tell her how her sons were growing up. I never understood it.” He takes a deep breath, wondering if his father still does that. 

Glenn is buried somewhere in what used to be Duscur. Does Rodrigue talk to the battered armour and sword that came home instead of a living, breathing son? 

Did he talk to Dimitri’s grave before he left Gronder?

Byleth’s hands are settled in her lap, staring blankly at the grave. Felix reaches over to take one of her hands in his. 

She turns her face to him. “I don’t understand it either. But I feel like I should say something to them.” 

“Don’t the flowers say it all?” counters Felix. “Those flowers made you think of Jeralt. You said they symbolise strength. Your strength, their strength.” 

She smiles at that, curling her fingers tight around his. “I think you might be right. Thank you, Felix.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” he replies, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t do anything. And, anyway, I– I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For yesterday.” The smile fades from her face, but Felix continues on. “And since Gronder, probably.” He grimaces at himself, wishing he’d worded that better. 

Byleth turns to face him more fully, a determined slant settling over her face. The last light of the day catches her hair that’s blowing lightly in the wind. 

“That’s alright,” she begins. “What happened with Dimitri was awful. But I need to tell you something. I’m just not sure if I should.”

He frowns, hurt to think that she might not trust him. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m afraid it might hurt you,” is her gentle response, which only serves to put him more on edge. 

But he steels himself, ready to hear anything she might have to tell him. “You can tell me,” he repeats. 

Her free hand finds his one, clutching tight. “I haven’t told anyone this.”

“Not even Claude?” Felix asks, surprised, and Byleth shakes her head. 

“Not even Claude. It’s about Sothis.” Whatever surprise Felix has at her mentioning the goddess quickly turns to astonishment as Byleth continues speaking and tells him about the power she holds – that she can turn back time.

He’s never heard of such magic before, never even imagined…

His first feeling is sheer amazement and curiosity, and he forgets what she’d said about this possibly hurting him as Byleth dutifully answers each of his questions – how far can she go back, how often can she use it.

“I’ve only ever used it on the battlefield, when I really need it,” she tells him, still tense and watching all of his reactions carefully. 

He opens his mouth to ask something else, but then closes it as it settles in him what that means. “When things go badly in battle?” he asks, looking for clarification. 

She nods, and glances back at the gravestone. “But it doesn’t always work. Some things can’t be changed.”

A cold shiver runs down Felix’s spine as she speaks, dread rising in him. “Your father?”

“I couldn’t save him.” 

He thinks of how she moves on the battlefield, how so often she’s been there just in time. Like she’d somehow _known_… “But you’ve saved the rest of us.” 

She nods. Felix sags, head dropping down to look at their joined hands as he thinks about that. “Byleth,” he whispers, leaning closer into her as he raises his head. “How often have you seen us die?”

Her lips thin. “Too often.”

He’s horrified by what she’s saying, but it also makes something click into place for him. The way she’d looked at Gronder, and what she’d said.

“_He kills you_.”

“Dimitri,” he says, breathing out the name as it hits him. Byleth’s eyes turn even sadder. “He killed me, didn’t he?

She nods, lips turning downwards. 

“I thought,” she begins, making a clear attempt to keep her voice steady, “it was going to be like my father. No matter how many times I went back, he–“ She breaks off.

She looks completely anguished, and Felix finally understands exactly _why_ she’d looked so distraught and panicked, and why she’d shoved him away from Dimitri like she had.

She’d watched him die, over and over again. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking as he pulls her into his arms. He’s not even sure what he’s apologising for, but she should never have had to go through that, he should have been _strong enough_–

Byleth turns her face into his neck. “No,” she breaths, “don’t apologise. I don’t know if we could have done more to save Dimitri, but I wasn’t going to let you die.” 

Bile rises up in his throat as he remembers how Dimitri had looked. Bloodthirsty and crazed. Rage like he’s never seen before. _A beast_, his mind supplies, out of habit, but strangely enough, despite what he’s just heard, Felix shoos the thought away. 

Byleth raises her head, brushing her lips lightly against his. Her eyes are red and watery, but no tears fall, and her voice is fierce when she speaks. “I couldn’t let you die. I _wouldn’t_. I wasn’t losing you too.”

He has no words to say to that. Felix can’t promise she won’t lose him – although he’ll fight with everything he has to make sure they can stay together. But right now, all he can do is kiss her and hold her tight to him and hope that’s enough to chase away all the times she had to watch him die.

.

Later, when they’re tangled up in bed together, Byleth asks him if she should have told him about Dimitri.

Felix thinks about it for a long time before answering. It’s not easy to know what Dimitri would have done to him. It’s not easy to know about Byleth’s powers, powers that seem too big for one person to have. 

But… he’d rather know. He’d rather she be able to tell him anything, and know that she doesn’t have to go through this alone.

When he tells her this, he sees her relief, and he swears to himself he will always help her carrying this weight, until the day he dies.

.

The battle at Shambhala turns out not to be the final fight of the war, and not long after they leave that strange underground city, Felix finds himself facing his ancestor – or some facsimile of her – across a wet plain. The original ten elites, led by Nemesis himself. 

He’s relieved Fraldarius does not speak, but her gaze on him feels heavy.

The shield on her arm mirrors his. 

Despite how unsettling it is, Felix cuts her down. He’s turned away from the body before it hits the ground, intent on finding Byleth. 

Nemesis’ army is full of ghosts. All of them can stay where they belong – in the past. 

Felix is looking forwards, to the future.

.

After the defeat of Nemesis, they make their final march back to Garreg Mach.

Finally, the war is over. 

Felix hears the others begin to talk about what they plan to do now that there’s peace. It’s not something he’s given much thought to. All he really knows is that he wants to be with Byleth. But he also has no idea what _she_ wants. They’ve never spoken about what they’ll do beyond the war. 

It’s not like he wants the war to continue – far from it – but he doesn’t know what place he has in peacetime. 

Still… not long after Byleth had told him about her ability to turn back time, Felix had sent a letter home, requesting an item be sent to him. He hopes that, by now, it’s waiting for him at the monastery. 

Can’t very well ask Byleth to marry him without a ring, after all.

.

The first night back in Garreg Mach, they celebrate. The long war means there’s no elaborate feast, but there’s enough cheap ale and some wine to keep everyone happy. Felix sits with Leonie for a while, trying to match her drink for drink, until Raphael comes along and swings her up for a dance as the musicians – if they can be called that, as it’s just the few people around the monastery that could hold an instrument – begin to play.

Felix decides to take his leave then, because he can see Hilda eyeballing him and the last thing he wants is to be dragged into the crowd of dancers. 

Byleth finds him before he gets very far, which pleases him. He hasn’t seen her in a few hours, and had been wondering if she’d left the party.

“Not dancing?” she asks slyly, a brightness in her eyes that suggests she’s also had a drink or two. 

He raises an eyebrow at her as her hand grips his wrist tightly. 

“You really were very good at it, so it would be a shame not to,” Byleth continues, smiling, and her expression and the way she’s pressing against him makes him want to smile too.

He fights the urge and tries to remain straight faced when he says, “You didn’t teach me to dance with a partner.”

“The skills I taught you were transferrable. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me,” he responds dryly, smile threatening to break out, and then he relents. “Byleth, do you want to dance?”

Her own smiles widens as she pulls him towards the impromptu dancing area that has appeared by the lake, keeping to the edge of the other dancers. There’s a festive atmosphere in the air, the knowledge that the war is won and peace can begin. Above them, the night sky is clear and full of stars. 

The musicians segue into a new song with only a few out of place notes, and Felix smoothly begins leading Byleth in a dance. After a moment he says, “I had dancing lessons growing up.”

Byleth raises her eyebrows. “That does sound like something you nobles would do.” 

“I did learn to dance with a partner,” he admits. 

Byleth hums, and lets him twirl her. “How much did you hate it?”

“A lot. Yours weren’t as bad. They were more useful.” 

“That was the point of them.” She glances down at their feet. “I’m not as good with this kind of dancing.”

Felix smiles at that and glances around. They are dancing a little more formally than nearly anyone else. He slides the hand on Byleth’s back down lower, pressing her closer to him. Her eyes flash at him as she meets his gaze again. 

“Byleth.” His voice is soft and low, so only she can hear. “What do we do now?” 

She blinks, surprised by his sudden serious turn, but Felix can tell she understands what he means. “I… don’t know. I have a meeting with Rhea tomorrow morning, and Claude said he needs to talk to me. He sounded serious.”

Felix huffs. “I hope you won’t let them decide your life for you.”

Byleth winces slightly at that. “Is that why you don’t like Claude?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” he replies, a little frustrated. “He’s just… always up to something.”

Byleth chuckles. “I suppose that’s true.” 

“And I know he’s your friend and I’m not jealous of that, but–“ Felix breaks off, annoyed at himself. “I just don’t know what he’ll ask of you next,” he finishes, somewhat weakly. 

She sighs. “You know, Raphael said something similar to me.”

“He did?”

“He said Claude always asks me to do things and I never say no, even if I don’t want to do it. But everything that Claude has asked me to do has been for a reason I agreed with. It helped win this war.” 

Felix can’t even disagree with that and they sway in silence for a moment while he tries to articulate his thoughts. Still, they don’t come out as well as he hopes. “I just want you to do what you want to do.”

A small smile crosses her face. “I know, but we still need to–“ She stops abruptly, eyes widening as she catches sight of something behind him. 

“What?” Alarmed, Felix turns around and immediately spots what’s distracted her. 

His father is standing some distance away, a little beyond the bulk of the crowd, watching them with folded arms and a neutral expression.

Felix spins back around to face Byleth, mind suddenly racing. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, squeezing his hand.

“I– I wasn’t expecting him to be here.” 

Byleth’s eyes flicker beyond him again, a crease forming between her brows. “Claude did mention summoning what lords he could to Garreg Mach so we can find a common way to move forward, but those letters only went out today.”

Felix suppresses a groan. He knows why his father is here. He’d addressed his letter to the steward of Fraldarius castle, but he’d known the possibility of his father seeing it was high. He just hasn’t expected Rodrigue to actually come here. “I wrote a letter home, a while ago,” he tells Byleth. They’ve stopped dancing completely by now. “I suppose this is the old man’s reply.” 

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Felix mulls it over for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he finally says, surprised to find out his reaction isn’t an immediate _no_. “But I will.” Not least because he suspects his father has the ring he’d asked for. 

Byleth nods. “Alright, I’ll let you go.” She drops his hands and steps out of his hold, leaving Felix feeling a little bereft. “I’m going back to my room.” Her mouth edges up in slight smile, one that’s full of promise. “Come find me when you’re done.” 

Well, Felix thinks as he watches her leave. That’s something to look forward to, at least. 

It’s only when she’s out of sight does he turn back towards his father, who hasn’t moved.

Steeling his shoulders, Felix marches towards him like he’s going to battle. As he gets closer, he sees Rodrigue struggle to keep his neutral expression.

“Felix,” he breathes out, stepping forward and briefly raising his arms like he might embrace his son, before he thinks better of it, dropping them to his side. “I am so relieved to see you well.” 

Not in the mood for small talk, Felix jerks his head and turns away, indicating Rodrigue should follow him. It’s too noisy here to talk properly, and too many of his friends are looking over curiously. He checks once to make sure his father is behind him, and then leads him up the steps, through the dining hall and out into the gardens beyond, where it’s much quieter. 

Only then does he stop and turn back towards Rodrigue. “I’m assuming you got my letter.”

Rodrigue takes a deep breath. “Yes, I did. The steward was a little baffled that you requested _he_ send you your mother’s ring–“

“_Shhh_!” Felix hisses, glancing around as he flails a hand at Rodrigue. There’s less people here, but any one of them could overhear.

“Ah.” Rodrigue relaxes slightly. “I see you haven’t asked her yet.”

He scowls. “You don’t know anything.” 

“No, I suppose I don’t.” A sad look crosses his face. “Felix. Gronder–“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Felix interrupts, looking anywhere but at his father. “I just want the ring.” 

Rodrigue looks pained. “Of course you can have it, but–“

“Fine.” Felix holds out his hand. 

“Will you even speak to me after I give it to you?” Felix looks at his father out of the corner of his eye, gritting his teeth. When he doesn’t say anything, Rodrigue goes on, “I’m assuming you haven’t opened any of my letters.”

“Why would I?” Felix hates this. He hates how speaking to his father brings up every bad feeling in him, how it makes him feel like he’s a child again, lost and confused and grieving because his brother just died and all the man in front of him could say was that he _died like a true knight_. 

“I wanted to explain why I didn’t stay to speak to you at Gronder,” Rodrigue says gently. “What was left of the army was a mess, and Faerghus–“

“I understand that you had to go back,” Felix interrupts him, again. “What I don’t understand is why you never told me Dimitri was alive.” 

Grief crosses Rodrigue’s face, the same look Felix had seen when Glenn died. “I truly did not find out until after you had left for Garreg Mach. His Highness requested we not inform you.” He pauses, appearing conflicted. “Or parley with the Alliance army. You must understand Felix, he was so lost. I thought I – we – could help him, and I knew you were in good hands with Sylvain here, and your Professor. But I lost sight of him on the battlefield at Gronder, and then–” Rodrigue looks away. He doesn’t need to finish. 

Felix closes his eyes. He could tell his father what had happened. That Dimitri had called him Glenn. That Dimitri would have killed him without a second thought. What would he think of that? Would he rather have Dimitri standing here instead of him?

He lets out a long breath, trying to curb his temper. Eventually, he opens his eyes, and finds his father watching him with that sad, pathetic expression. “I just want the ring.”

Rodrigue sighs, and pulls out a small, delicate box. “I must admit, I’m surprised. You’re not one for tradition.” 

He hands the box to Felix, who opens it immediately, inspecting the pretty silver ring with the green stones, the same as he remembers. 

And while Felix knows that now that he has what he wants, he can just walk away, Rodrigue’s statement has him curious. 

“What do you mean?”

Rodrigue is looking at the ring with a wistful expression. “It’s an old ring in our family. I’d have thought you’d have gone for something new.”

Felix bristles at that. “We were at war. I wasn’t going to waste resources on a _ring_.”

Except Rodrigue has a point. His father had told Felix a long time ago that this ring was his, whenever he wanted to marry. At the time, he hadn’t thought much about it, or cared at all for the ring, knowing that, if Glenn had lived, this might have ended up on Ingrid’s hand. But strangely, that thought doesn’t bother him now.

His father actually laughs. “I’d say that’s terrible reasoning, but your Professor always seemed like a practical woman. Perhaps she won’t mind.”

Freezing, Felix stares at his father, feeling himself go red. _How had he known?_

Rodrigue laughs again like he knows exactly what Felix is thinking. “It’s very obvious. When you two were dancing, I… I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time.” His smile fades. “Perhaps I’m just getting old, but it made me very nostalgic.”

_Fuck_. Felix glances down at the ring again, unable to look at his father when he has an expression like that on his face. All of a sudden he feels nostalgic too, for a time when every conversation with Rodrigue didn’t feel like a battle.

It’s enough to make him relent as he snaps the box shut and crosses his arms. “The colour of the stones remind me of her hair and her eyes,” he admits, and then regrets it immediately. 

Rodrigue’s eyes light up and Felix knows he’s holding back what he really wants to say. But when he speaks, it’s clear Rodrigue is being genuine, which chases some of Felix’s embarrassment away. “I am happy for you, that you found happiness with someone, especially in times like these. She is a formidable woman. And while I have, of course, met the Professor previously, I would appreciate you introducing her to me as the woman you love and my future daughter-in-law.”

Felix feels himself flush harder. Does he have to say it like that? “Fine,” he replies shortly, only because he thinks Byleth will be happy about it. He turns to leave, before pausing. “You should probably stick around, old man. I expect Claude will want to speak to you.”

“Duke Riegan did find me earlier, and requested I remain at the monastery.” 

Felix gives a jerky nod at that, and takes his leave. He’s almost out of the gardens when his father calls out, “Good night, Felix! Tell Byleth I said hello!” 

Hunching his shoulders around his ears, Felix practically sprints out of the gardens and towards the dormitories.

.

Byleth is already in bed when he gets to her room, sleepy but still somewhat awake. She turns on her side and watches him undress, the room lit only by a singular lamp.

“My father knows about us,” he tells her.

She doesn’t have much of a reaction to that. “Does he mind?” 

Felix frowns, tossing his shirt to the ground before turning to look at her. “Why would he mind?”

Her shoulder, bare and just peeking out of the blankets, raises in a lazy shrug. “I’m not a noble.” 

He scoffs and turns away from her again to carefully remove the rest of his clothes, keeping the ring box hidden. He’ll ask her soon, but… not tonight, not when his head is still too full of his father. 

“I think he’s beyond caring about something so unimportant. Anyway, he can hardly object to the Archbishop.”

“_Acting_ Archbishop, Lord Fraldarius,” she amends. 

Felix makes a noise of disapproval at the title as he removes the last of his clothes. Snuffing out the lamp, he moves towards the bed, climbing under the blankets that Byleth pulls back for him. As soon as he feels her skin against his, Felix begins to feel better, the tension of speaking to his father sliding away. His hand slides over Byleth’s back and her ass, down to her thigh to hitch it over his hip as he buries his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her and finally relaxing. 

“Tomorrow,” he mumbles into her skin. “Find me after your meeting with Rhea.”

“Training grounds?” she asks with a yawn.

“Where else?”

.

The next day, she’s late to meet him in the training grounds and when she gets there, looking thoughtful, Felix is too full of nervous energy to even ask how her meeting with Rhea went.

Instead, he asks her to marry him 

To his relief, she not only accepts, but gives him a ring that had once belonged to _her_ mother. It only goes over the first knuckle on his little finger, but as he presses her to the wall of the training grounds, kissing her not far from the first place they ever kissed, Felix knows, one way or another, he’ll wear this ring until he dies.

.

After that, a lot happens at once, because Claude _leaves_. 

Just… steps down as Duke and leaves. 

Not even Sylvain knows where he is, although it’s clear he has his suspicions. 

“He told me he’d be in touch,” he tells Felix and Byleth, in a fake, bright voice that as far as Felix is concerned, does nothing to hide his hurt. “Told me that it wouldn’t be safe for him for a while.” He laughs, and it’s more than a bit bitter. “I’m sure he’s in Almyra, but it’s not like he’d answer my question about that. Not like Claude to tell anyone _anything_ about himself.”

Felix exchanges a glance with Byleth. 

“Claude keeps his promises, Sylvain. I’m sure he’ll write to you when he can.” Byleth sounds confident, but Felix can tell she’s also hurt by Claude’s abrupt departure. 

Not least because he’s left her in charge of everything. 

The new queen of a united Fódlan.

.

One long day follows another, full of meetings and discussions and arguments about how best to govern the united country and get help to those who need it. Large parts of the country have been ravaged by the war, and there are still people in Faerghus starving. Byleth is adamant about using what resources they have to assist people instead of wasting it on a lavish coronation for herself.

Most evenings, they both end up in the training grounds, both of them needing to work off some energy after sitting around all day having tedious talks. Sometimes, even after that, Byleth is still too restless to think about resting, and she walks the grounds of the monastery, anything to get herself tired enough to sleep.

Tonight is one such night like that. Felix has walked with her, and they’ve ended up at the top of the Goddess Tower. 

Felix watches her as she gazes out at the sky. He’d sworn to help her carry the burden of her powers and now he’s still trying to figure out how he can help her carry the the titles of both queen and archbishop. Already, he can see the weight that they are pressing down on her.

After a few moments of silence, Byleth speaks. “Less than two years ago, I was still a mercenary.” Her gaze goes distant again. “I was still on the road with my father.” 

Felix keeps quiet, trying to figure out how best to reply. He’s not great at words or comfort, and in truth, he often forgets that Byleth passed five years in the blink of an eye. He knows Byleth thinks she isn’t great at comfort either, but he remembers how she’d been there after Dimitri died. And for Byleth, her former life, and her grief for her father, really isn’t that long ago.

“I don’t want to be a queen,” she finally says, very quietly. “I don’t know how.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to,” Felix says, honest. He’s seen her take charge of the meetings already. She listens to criticisms, but isn’t cowed by any of the nobles who might look down on her. What’s more, she cares about the people of Fódlan. 

_I didn’t help end this war only for the people to starve_, is what she’d said, just hours before, eyes bright and determined. 

But despite that strength, she seems to be having doubts now. She shakes her head. “Fódlan has been ravaged by the war. I don’t know how to put it back together again.”

“So you find people who do,” he replies immediately. “People you trust.” As a child, Felix had never enjoyed learning about what it meant to be a Duke – he never even wanted to be a Duke, it had never been meant for _him_ – but at least those lessons might actually be useful now. 

Byleth nods, still staring out the clear, night sky, but she sighs and leans into him when he wraps his arms around her, pressing his chest to her back. 

“Sylvain is already talking about going to Sreng.” 

Felix huffs. “I know. He’s being reckless.”

“I think he just wants to get away from here, and do something that means he won’t have to think about Claude. And we do have to think about the border. Sylvain’s the one who knows it best” 

Every time Claude’s name is mentioned, Felix gets a little bit annoyed. Byleth can obviously feel him tensing up behind her, because she turns her head to press a brief kiss to his jaw. 

“Whatever Claude is up to,” she says, “he has a plan. I trust him.” 

He sighs. “I know, and I trust him too.” It’s true enough, even if Felix still finds Claude exasperating. “But he’s as reckless as Sylvain.”

Byleth’s lips twitch. “It will work out for them,” she says, sounding confident.

“How do you know that?”

She shrugs in his arms. “Claude’s very determined to get what he wants. And he wants Sylvain.”

“But he wants something else more.”

She nods. “Maybe, for now. He has a dream he needs to see come true. Maybe he can’t be with Sylvain until he does whatever he needs to do in Almyra.” 

“You think he’s in Almyra, too?” 

Byleth laughs. “You should talk to Claude more often when we see him again. In hindsight it seems really obvious that’s where he is.”

Felix thinks about everything he knows about Claude and realises that it’s not really that much. “But, how?”

Byleth shrugs again before turning in his arms. “Maybe he’ll tell us, someday.” She pauses to skim his jaw with her hand. “Anyway,” she murmurs. “I’ve decided that I can’t be Archbishop and Queen. Rhea is still very weak, so she won’t take up her old position, but I intend to find a suitable replacement as soon as possible.”

“Seteth?”

“Seems like an obvious choice, but he’s reluctant. Regardless, he’ll be picking the replacement more than I will be.” She pauses. “And you’re right.”

He smirks. “Of course, but what about?”

She smooths her thumb over his bottom lip. “About needing people I trust. I have all my Golden Deer. I have Judith, Holst. Your father. It’s a good start, don’t you think?” 

He leans in, and Byleth drops her hand so he can kiss her softly. “I’d say so,” he murmurs. 

Byleth hums. “And I have you, of course.”

“Saving the best for last, I hope,” Felix responds dryly.

She laughs at that, the sound warming him. “Of course.” The smile fades too quickly though, and she turns more sombre. “I still don’t want it, though.”

“You don’t have to take it. You don’t have to be Queen to help Fódlan.”

But Byleth shakes her head. “I think I do, at least for a while. So I hope you’ll stay with me.”

He’s a little offended that she’d say that, after everything they’ve been through, but he pushes that feeling aside. Felix knows it won’t always be easy. Still, there’s a slight edge to his voice when he says, “I told you when I asked you to marry me. I’m with you until the day I die.”

Felix knows that sounds morbid, even if it’s entirely true, but it seems to give Byleth some satisfaction. And he’s not done yet. “I’ve also decided to relinquish my title. Fraldarius will pass to my uncle and his family after my father.”

Byleth’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t look that surprised. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” he responds firmly. “We’d be apart too often if I had to watch over the territory. And I… I never wanted it. It was Glenn’s path, not mine, and I’ve always intended to cut my own. Now–“ he hesitates slightly, still feeling a lingering embarrassment at being so open with his feelings “–now I want to cut that path with you.”

“Good,” she says softly. “I want that too. And I won’t always be queen. When I can, I’ll step down.”

He kisses her – her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips, softly coaxing them open and cradling her face in his hands. “And I’ll be at your side.” Another kiss before he pulls away. “Someone has to make sure your blade stays sharp, after all.”

Her eyes narrow at that. “You think I’ll go soft, just because I’m queen?”

“I’ve been beating you more often recently. I did it just this evening,” he reminds her, a little smug. “So it is a concern.” 

She breaks out of his arms and stalks towards the stairs that lead back down to the monastery. “Well, if you’re concerned…” Cocking her head at him, Byleth raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Shall we go again?”

Felix steps towards her, trying hard to hide his smile. Instead of answering, he presses her to the wall and kisses her again, a deep, slow kiss that has them both panting by the time he pulls away.

Byleth’s hands fist in his shirt. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Are you so easily distracted?” Felix counters, like he hasn’t just distracted _himself_. 

She pushes him away from her and then steps away from the wall, before grabbing his hand and pulling him down the steps with her. “No. I’ll have you on your back before you know it.”

“Confident,” he murmurs, even though his heart starts beating faster at her words. It’s not the worst position to be in, when Byleth’s around. 

But she’ll still have to defeat him to get him into it. 

When she turns a mock glare on him, Felix can’t help but kiss her again, his fingers seeking out her left hand so that he can touch the ring she now always wears. His is safe on a chain around his neck.

With everything going on, they’ve decided to wait until after her coronation to be married. 

Felix is looking forward to the day he can call Byleth his wife. 

Distracted as they are, it takes them a while to get to the training ground. Despite the late hour and the moon now high in the sky, Felix feels more energised than ever.

And so does Byleth, beautiful under the moonlight. She tests the weight of a training sword in her hands and looks at him from under her eyelashes. “Felix,” she says mildly. “I love you, but I won’t go easy on you.”

He scoffs at that, expecting no less. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Their swords clash, loud in the quiet of night, and they grin at each other. They got through the war together, and they’ll get through anything else that comes their way.

_No_, Felix thinks as their swords meet again, _I wouldn’t change a thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this story, even with the long gaps between updates! 💕 I do want to (eventually) write more for these two set further postgame, as well as the Claudevain story to go along with this.
> 
> I am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rydiaofmyst) if anyone wants to say hello.

**Author's Note:**

> You know how you said or did a stupid thing ages ago and years later your brain decides, for no reason, to replay it in excruciating detail to remind you of what a dumbass you are even if it's already forgotten what you had for breakfast that day? My first thought on seeing Felix's Goddess Tower scene on a Verdant Wind replay recently was that it'd be one of those moments for him because wow, Felix, just wow. So that was the basic premise for this fic and then... it... spiralled a bit. It was originally supposed to be all lighthearted with less angsting about Dimitri but lol it's Felix, so no.


End file.
